.T« A 



*.-XT^' ,0^ 






►v\ 




/.C^.'^^o 



o^ '<»•** A 



'J^ *'' aV 










^V" 



.^ -^^-^^^ V 



9^. *««»' aO 



^^ % 




^- V 



« .3^. vmf^\^,- aV^^^ V 






.^^^ ::<^m^^-^ ^o9 -(^^^-- ^^Mr^ 



^O. 








•l<=e^ . 










\p^- 










.-^^ « 








-^,>. '-Try-*/' V'^^'V^'' V'*'^" 
^^-•' •^^..♦* /Jfe-, X/ iMH^ v..^' 



... >> 



,/ /^/oSR-' .^^'-^ . -J 



rrs^ ,0 



O^ 'o 




v*^^ 

..^^%. 




<, *'T:s' ,0 




P^ .'1'^% 



V '^^ -^^ • 














: <.9^^^. V 



^- .^^^^<^ 



. * * A ^ . 

A^ c <*"*-» <^ 






jk : 









^' J^ ^^^. '-- - ^ <. ^-^^^^ .0^ 






x^ 








1*^ .».'• 










- <>jv C'^ ♦'f 








.^^, 



v^. 
















v\^ 



^<^- 






^ <vy %!. -^ , . 

^r-s -ay ci* • ^^^ •♦ V "V* •►^%^Bu*r^ ,<iV ft. 

5^ .c«JLV.% 












TRAITS 



^4^®^i©iir 



AaiERICA. 



A POEM. 



U^ 




CAMBRIDGE 



FROM THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 

Hilliard and Metcalf Printers. 

Hold by Cummings & Hilliar4> No. 1 Cornhill> Boston, 
1822. 



^cj^gsa. 



:\n 



r^^ 



DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, TO WIT : 

District Clerk's Office. 
Be it remembered, that on the seventeenth day of Juty A. D. 1822, and 
in the forty-seventh year of the independence of the United States of 
America, Cummings & Hilliard of the said district have deposited in this 
office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the 
words following, to wit : 

" Traits of the Aborigines of America. A Poem." 
In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled 
" An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, 
diarts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act, entitled " An act supplement- 
ary to an act, entitled An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such 
copies, during the times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof 
ft) the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 

JOHN W. DAVIS, 
Clerk of the district of Massachusetts. 



i^'. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

The avails of this work are devoted exclusively 
to religious charities. 



TRAITS OF THE ABORIGINES. 



O'er the vast regions of that Western world, 

Whose lofty mountains hiding in the clouds 

Conceal'd their grandeur and their wealth so long 

From European eyes, the Indian rov'd, 

Free and unconquered. From those frigid plains 

Struck with the torpor of the Arctic~pole, 

To where Magellan lifts his torch* to light 

The meeting of the waters ; — from the shore 

Whose smooth green line the broad Atlantic laves, 

To the rude borders of that rocky strait 10 

Where haughty Asia seems to stand and gaze 

On the New Continent, the Indian reign'd 

Majestic and alone. Fearless he rose, 

Firm as hismountains, like his rivers, wild, 



4 

Bold as those lakes, whose wondrous chain controuls 

His northern coast. The forest and the wave 

Gave him his food ; the slight-constructed hut 

Furnish'd his shelter, and its doors spread wide 

To every wandering stranger. There his cup. 

His simple meal, his lowly couch of skins 20 

Were hospitably shared. Rude were his toils, 

And rash his daring, when he headlong rush'd 

Down the steep precipice to seize his prey ; 

Strong was his arm to bend the stubborn bow, ""^^ 

And keen his arrow. This the Bison knew, 

The spotted Panther, the rough, shaggy Bear, 

The Wolf dark-prowHng, the eye-piercing Lynx, 

The wild Deer bounding through the shadowy glade, 

And the swift Eagle, soaring high to make 

His nest among the stars. Cloth'd in their spoils 30 

He dar'd the elements ; with eye sedate 

Breasted the w^intry w^inds'; o'er the white heads 

Of angry torrents steered his rapid bark 

Light as their foam, mounted with tireless speed 

Those slippery cliffs, where everlasting snows 

Weave their dense robes, or laid him down to sleep 

Where the dread thunder of the cataract lull'd 

His drowsy sense. The dangerous toils of war 



fie sought and lov'd. Traditions, and proud tales 

Of other days, exploits of chieftains bold, 40 

Dauntless and terrible, the warrior's song, 

The victor's triumph, — all conspired to raise 

The martial spirit, kindling in his breast 

With life's first throb. Oft the rude, wandering tribes 

Rush'd on to battle. Their aspiring chiefs 

Lofty and iron-fram'd, with native hue 

Strangely disguised in wild and glaring tints, 

Frown'd like some Pictish king. The conflict rag'd 

Fearless and fierce, 'mid shouts and disarray, 

As the swift lightning urges its dire shafts 5Q^ 

Through clouds and darkness, when the warring blasts 

Awaken midnight. O'er the captive foe 

Unsated vengeance storm'd. Flame and slow wound? 

Rack'd the strong bonds of hfe ; but the firm soul 

Smil'd in its fortitude to mock the rage 

Of its tormentors ; when the crisping nerves 

Were broken, still exulting o'er its pain 

To rise unmurmuring to its father's shades. 

Where in delightful bowers the brave and just 

Rest and rejoice. 60 

Thus stood stern Regulus, 
When furious Carthage ui-g'd her torturing darts, 
1^ 



6 

TransfixM with dark, demoniac rage to find 
Her quiver all exhausted, and that soul 
Proudly unhurt. 

Yet those untutor'd tribes. 
Bound with their stern resolves and savage deeds 
Some gentle virtues ; as beneath the gloom 
Of overshadowing forests, sweetly springs 
The unexpected flower. Oft to their homes 
The captive youth they led, into his wounds 
Pouring the oil of kindness, and with love ^"^ 70 

Alluring hira to fill the vacant place 
Of brother, or of son, untimely slain 
In the dread battle.^ Their uncultur'd hearts 
Gave a strong soil for Friendship, that bold growth 
Of generous affection, changeless, pure. 
Self-sacrificing, counting losses light, 
x\nd yielding life with gladness. By its side 
Like sister-plant, sprang ardent Gratitude, 
Vivid, perennial, braving winter's frost 
And summer's heat ; while nurs'd by the same dews 80 
Unbounded Reverence for the form of Age, 
Struck its deep root spontaneous, and display'd 
Its fair, decumbent petals. The dim eye, 
The furrow'd brow, the temples thinly clad. 



Tlie wasted page of man's infirm decline 

Awake that deep respect, not always trac'd 

*Mid those whom Science nurtures, whom the arts 

Of smooth refinement polish, and a voice 

Sublime instructs, " Honour the head that bears 

The hoary crown of Age." 90 

With pious awe 
Their eye uplifted sought the hidden path 
Of the Great Spirit. The loud midnight storm. 
The rush of mighty waters, the deep roll 
Of thunder, gave his voice ; the golden sun, 
The soft effulgence of the purple morn, 
The gentle rain distilling, was his smile 
Dispensing good to all. The Spirit of 111, 
Base foe to man, they dreaded ; and the cry 
Of his vile legions shrieking on the blast, 
Shuddering they heard. In various forms arose 100 
Their superstitious homage. Some'* with blood 
Of human sacrifices sought to appease 
That anger, which in pestilence, or dearth. 
Or famine stalk'd ; and their astonish'd vales 
Like Carthaginian altars, frequent drank 
The horrible libation. Some,* with fruits. 
Sweet flowers, and incense -of their choicest herbs, 



Sought to propitiate HIM, whose powerful hand 
Unseen, sustain'd them. Some^ with mystic rites, 
The ark, the orison, the paschal feast, 110 

Through glimmering tradition seem'd to bear, 
As in some broken vase, the smother'd coals, 
Scatter'd from Jewish ahars. 

Let the heart. 
That deems such semblance but the baseless dream 
Of blind credulity, survey the trace 
Of similarity, bid Truth's clear light 
Beam o'er the misty annal, note the facts, "^ 

Compare the language, weigh the evidence, 
And answer for itself. 

The chrystal tube 
Of calm inquiry, to thy patient eye, 120 

Meek Boudinot ! reveal'd an unknown star® 
Upon this western cloud. Its trembling beam 
Guided thy soul to Zion's sacred hill 
And ancient temple ; as that wondrous ray 
Streaming o'er eastern summits, led the feet 
Of the astonish'd Magi, to the cell 
Of their Messiah. Costly gifts they bore. 
Frankincense, myrrh, and gold ; but thou didst yield 
The better offering of a contrite prayer, 



That God would gather from the utmost bound, 130 

The children of his Friend, of the cold North 

And glowing South, his fugitives require ; 

From Cush and Elam, from the sea-green isles, 

And from the- western regions, bring again 

His banish'd ; bid the fearful desert bloom 

And sing before them, while their blinded hearts 

Illumin'd, catch the knowledge and the love 

Of Jesus Christ. Yet thou hast risen where pray'r 

Is lost in praise ; as yields the thrilling harp 

Its symphony, v/hen the high organ swells 140 

In solemn diapason. Thou hast left 

Mourning on earth, 'mid those who feel the ills 

Of Penury, who venerate the deeds 

Of boundless Generosity, or love 

The pure in heart. 

But whither art thou fled. 

Adventurous strain ? Resume thy opening theme. 
Paint the bold Indian ranging o'er his vales, 
Unaw'd, and unsubdued. 

Though his stern heart 
Seem'd cold and fixed as adamant, its cell 
Conceal'd the warm fount of parental love, 150 

And felt its thrilling tide. The lofty chiefs, 



10 

Inur'd by frowning hardship to despise 

The lineaments of joy, found o'er their souls 

Strange softness stealing, as they mutely gaz'd 

Upon the smile of infancy, or saw. 

Waking from its sweet dream, the joyous babe 

Reach forth its little hands. The warrior bold, 

Who vanquish'd toil and famine, bore unmov'd 

The battle-shock, or with calm, changeless brow 

Endur'd the keenest tortures, writh'd in pangs 160 

Over his children lost ; while bitter drops 

Wrung forth by anguish stain'd his furrow'd cheeks. 

In that dire struggle when relentless Grief 

Confronts strong Nature, the heart- cherish'd nerve 

Broken and bleeding, rent the stubborn breast, 

As uptorn roots dislodge the iron oak 

Which tempests could not bend. A prey to grief 

Seem'd the sad mothers. The first-rising storm 

Of sorrow, passionate and wild, burst forth, 

And in that deadly calm which Reason dreads 170 

Shuddering, their weak, exhausted hands they prest 

On their wan' lips, and in the lowly dust 

Laid them despairing. 

O'er the dreaded grave 

Mist and thick darkness brooded ; trembling Hope 



11 

Vision'd futurity ; but Fancy wrought 
Incessant, peopling it with airy shapes 
Fantastic as her own. 

Now the fair cHme 
Was bright with verdure, lofty forests wav'd 
In the pure breeze, gay deer with branching horns 
AUur'd the hunter, through clear, sparkling streams 
Glided the scaly tribes, and thronging seals 180 

Innumerous, sporting 'mid the emerald isles 
Fled not the barbed lance. The Arctic sky 
Kindling at evening with resplendent hues 
Crimson and gold, in changeful wreaths combin'd, 
To the poor Greenlander reveal'd the dance 
Of happy spirits,® who in fields of bliss 
Weave their light measures. But anon, pale Fear 
With trembling pencil trac'd a gulph of woe 
Throng'dwith unearthly shapes, whose dizzy bridge 190 
Tottering, and guarded by a monster fierce. 
How few could pass ! The first sad days of grief, 
Were dark and dreadful. The tear-blinded eye 
Pursues the wanderer, as he seems to urge 
His toilsome journey. His adventurous foot, 
Uncertain, slides upon that slippery bridge 
Which like a tremulous and shrivell'd thread 



T6> 

Shoots the abyss of flame. Falling he rolls 
Upon the fiery flood, struggling to gain 
The far, dim coast, where angry dragons wait 200 

With jaws distain'd and scaly strength to attack 
The weary traveller, ere he reach the abode 
Of happy spirits. Hence the mourners place 
By their lamented friend, his trusty bow. 
Arrows and food, and closely wrapt in skins 
They leave him standing in his narrow cell 
T^repar'd for combat. 

Thus the warlike Earl.^^ 
Stern Seward,® in his armour brac'd, erect. 
Met grisly Death, his last competitor, 
But his first conqueror. Some, half reclin'd 210 

Sit in their mouldering graves, prepar'd to hold 
Converse with Death's dark angels, when they come 
Sweeping on sable pinions through the gloom, 
Strong and terrific. Others, tow'rd^° the east 
With faces turn'd, repose ; that when the morn 
'Expected, breaks their slumber, its first ray 
May guide them to that country where their sires 
Dwelt in past ages. 

O'er the lonely tomb 

Affection linger'd watchful. Weed nor thorn ^ * 



13 

Might choke the young turf springing, nor the hand 220 
Of wantonness deface it. The keen eye 
Of Valour, glancing o'er this sacred trust, 
Turn'd like the sword which barr'd the step of guilt 
From silent Eden. Thus the Scythian tribes, ^ 2 
Wandering without a city, calPd to guard 
Nor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless stand 
Upon their fathers' sepulchres, and taught 
The boastful Persian, that the kindling flame 
Caught from their ashes, like the lightning's wrath 
Could blast his legions. Thus the natives dwelt, 230 
Fearless, nor asking aught save what their realm 
Amply supplied. They had not learnt to change 
Heaven's gifts to poisons, nor the aliment 
That cheers the body, to th' imprisoning bond 
Of th' ethereal mind. No balefuUrts 
Of chymistry transform'd the staff of life 
To Riot's weapon, and the toitering props 
Of Death's dark throne. They knew not then to mark 
'With sparkling eye the transmigration foul 
Of Earth's blest harvest melted in the bowl 340 

Inebriate. Nor had the fatal charm 
Of Luxury seduced them to subject 
Spirit to sense, binding the lofty soul 
2 ^ 



14 

A vassal at the revel and the feast, 

Like purple Dives. Temperance was theirs 5 

Theirs the elastic, the unruffled flow 

Of spirits and of blood, the nerve firm-brac'd, 

The vigorous mind, th' undreaded day of toil, 

And the pure dream. Say, can the eye that raark'd 

Their simple majesty, and their bold hearts 250 

Free and unfettered, as the wind that swept 

Their cloud-capt mountains, bear to turn and trace 

The dark reverse ? 

First, to their northern coast ..^ 
Wander'd the Scandinavians, urging on 
O'er the cold billows their storm-driven boats, 
And pleas'd to rest, and rear their clay-built cells 
Where seem'd a trace of verdure. Ericke^ ^ steer' d 
From that lone isle which Nature's poising hand 
Cast 'tween the continents. There Winter frames 
The boldest architecture, rears strong tow'rs 260 

Of rugged frost-work, and deep-labouring throws 
A glassy pavement o'er rude tossing floods. 
Long near this coast he lingered, half-illum'd 
By the red gleaming of those fitful flames 
Which wrathful Hecla through her veil of snows 
Darts on the ebon night. Oft he recall'd 



15 

Pensive, his simple home, ere the New World 
Enwrapt in polar robes, with frigid eye 
-Receiv'd him, and in rude winds hoarsely hail'd 
Her earliest guest. Thus the stern king of storms, 270 
Swart Eolus, bade his imprison'd blasts 
Breathe dissonant welcome to the restless queen, 
Consort of Jove, whose unaccustom'd step 
Invaded his retreat. The pilgrim band 
Amaz'd beheld those mountain ramparts float 
Around their coast, where hoary Time had toil'd 
Ev'n from his infancy, to point sublime 
Their pyramids, and strike their awful base 
Deep 'neath the main. Say, Darwin !^ * Fancy's son ! 
What armour shall he choose who dares complete 280 
Thine embassy to the dire kings who frown 
Upon those thrones of frost? — What force compel 
Their abdication of their favour'd realm 
And rightful royalty ^ — What pilot's eye 
Unglaz'd by Death, direct their devious course 
- Tremendous navigation !) to allay 
The fervour of the tropics ? Proudly gleam 
Their sparkling masses, shaming the brief dome 
Which Russia's empress-queen^* bade the chill boor 
Quench life's frail lamp to rear. Now they assume 290 



16 

The front of old cathedral gray with years ; 

Anon their castellated turrets glow 

In high baronial pomp ; then the tall mast 

Of lofty frigate, peering o'er the cloud 

Attracts the eye; or some fair island spreads 

Towns, tow'rs, and mountains, cradled in a flood 

Of rainbow lustre, changeful as the web 

From fairy loom, and wild as fabled tales 

Of Araby. 

Amid these icy fields 
Mark'd they the Ocean monarch, in his sports ^^ 300 
Terrific, lashing the wide-foaming surge. 
Untaught to dread the harpoon, or to yield 
In tides of blood upon the billowy plain 
His regency to man. From eastern climes 
Where Maelstrom's vortex threats the trembling isles 
Of Lofoden and Moskoe, where the hand 
Of Nature in her wildness stamps the seal 
Of terror on her deeds, from Norway's realm 
Whose pine-clad forests hail the tardy ray 
Of the spent sun, who journeying o'er the heights 310 
Of sky-wrapt Dofrefield, exhausted sinks 
Upon his western couch, — from thence the band 
Of peaceful exiles caught in cheering beams 



17 

Salvation's radiance. To their humble cells 
Came holy men, by pious Olaf's^^ zeal 
Wing'd on their mission. Bowing from his throne 
To the baptismal font, his sou-l imbib'd 
Pity for distant heathen, and he stretch'd 
The sceptre of his love to the far realm 
Of Greenland's loneliness. Then churches rose, 320 
And from the lips of priests and bishops fell 
Sublime instruction, like the dews of heaven 
Upon the sons of Ericke. These by Time 
Mix'd and incorporate with the native race 
Content remain'd, and wrought no change of wrong. 
Or tyrrany. These too, the Esquimaux 
Wrapping his dwindled frame in the stol'n robe 
Of bear or rein-deer, and in uncouth sounds 
Conning his legends 'mid his long, drear night 
Counts as his sires. 330 

And did thy footsteps press 
These western shores, thou, whom the laureate Muse 
Of ardent Southey, from her rapid car 
Array'd in cloud-wrought garniture, with stars 
Of epic lustre, Madoc!^^ wandering son 
Of that unconquer'd chme, whose rifted rocks 
Travers'd by brow^sing goats, still from deep cells 
2^ ' 



18 

Pour tuneful forth the treasur'd minstrelsy^ ^ 
Of Tariessen's harp ? 

Age roll'd o'er age 
Ere the slight prow of bold Columbus broke 
Its unknown way, and ploughed the wrathful deep. 340 
The poor Lucayan, as he stood and gaz'd 
On those tall ships, and those mysterious men 
With brows so pale, and words of loftiest tone 
Fancied them Gods, nor dream'd their secret aim 
Was theft and cruelty, to snatch the gold 
That sparkled in their streams, and bid their blood 
Stain those pure waters. Yet the victor spake 
Of their mild manners, their deportment kind. 
Generous and just, even to the hordes that wrought 
Their misery and death. Once as he rov'd 350 

With ardent eye surveying this New World, 
From his green summer bow'r, an aged man 
Came forth to meet him. As a patriarch, grave. 
Yet vigorous he seem'd ; thin, silv^er locks 
Wav'd o'er his temples, and his form display'd 
That calm and graceful dignity which Time 
Tempers, but not destroys. With courteous air 
Ripe fruits he ofFer'd, from the juicy stem 
New-cull'd and fragrant, while with gentle words 
Bowing, he spake — ■ 360 



19 

" See ye these verdant vales, 
And spicy forests, where we careless live 
In simple plenty ? From far distant lands 
A differing and superiour race you come, 
With mighty weapons, and a warklike force 
To us resistless. We have not the heart 
To harm the stranger, or to see your blood 
Staining our arrows. Yet if men you are, 
Like us, subject to death ; if ye believe 
As we have heard, that after this short life 
Another comes, unending, where all deeds 370 

Receive their due reward, we need not fear 
To trust your mercy, for you cannot seek 
To wound the innocent*" 

Perchance the appeal 
Which seem'd so feeble to that coR^ering chief, 
Was ponder'd deeper when his soul had lost 
The pride of pow'r. Perchance ^^ in his lone cell 
At Valladolid, that mild voice might rise 
In Memory's echoes, striking on his ear 
With painful cadence, as he sought the tomb, 
Urg'd on and blasted by the withering frown 380 

Of an ungrateful country. 



20 

When the steps 
Of the invaders first imprest the shores 
Of the New World, say, did no dark eclipse 
Pervade thy skies, fair Mexico ? No sound 
Portentous, wslyu thee that the spoilers came 
To riot on thy glory ? Mark'd^° thy seers 
'Mid the dim vista of futurity 
Aught like the step of Cortez, like his glance 
Withering thy charms, as the false Spirit's eye 
On sinless Eden f Pour'd the scroll of Fate 390 

No fearful blackness o'er the final hour ""^ 

Of hapless Montezuma ? Bright the Sun 
Still shone, Peru ! upon thy diamond cliffs, 
Cheer'd the soft flow'ret, blushing, while its roots 
Sprang from the sparkling ore, gilded the dome 
Of Capac's lofty temple, gave one smile 
To his dehghted children, though its beam 
Was but the sad farewell of peace, and hope, 
And liberty. Deep were thy prison sighs 
Ahatualpa!^^ Vain thy high descent 400 

From mighty Incas ; vain thy simple truth 
And free confiding kindness to these sons 
Of desolation. Not thy profFer'd gold, 
Profuse as grasping Mammon's boundless wish, 



21 

Could sooth the tyrant's guilty thirst of blood. 

Or bind his perfidy. But thou must bend 

In all thy mildness to the blasting doom 

Of base Pizarro. Ev'n Religion lends 

A mockery to the deed. Methinks I see 

That kneeling monarch at the peaceful font 410 

Of holy baptism, bearing on his lip 

The name of Christ, while those profaning bands 

Who bless his cross, yet trample on his blood 

Prepare th' unjust, the ignominious pang 

Of black'ning torture. But the hour is near, 

Unprincipled Pizarro, when thy breast 

Shall feel the assassin's poniard, and thy soul 

Fleet where the opprest, and the oppressor meet, 

Stript of the baseless pow'r, and tyrant pomp 

Of this vain world. 420 

Soon in the track mark'd out 
By haughty Spain, the Lusitanian^^ bands 
Came flocking ; from scant bounds and despot sway, 
-Eager for space and freedom, their rude hands 
Grasp'd the wide zone from where th' Equator marks 
The mouth of Amazon, to the broad sea 
Of the La Plata. Sweetly were thy vales 
Smiling, Oh fair Brazil ! on their new lords, 



22 

Unconscious that their harvests iiian}^ a year 

Must rise and fatten in the richest blood 

Of their own sons. Far northward, where the chill 430 

Of winter lingered, steer'd the crews of France, 

And with a giddy and vivacious joy 

Snatch'd for themseh^es a cold Acadia, ^^ white 

With frost, and drifted snow. Onward they prest, 

Toward where its source the proud St. Lawrence owns, 

As Nilus'^ 'mid th' Abyssinian wastes 

Reveals through fringed reeds, and willows dank 

His azure eyes. With trembling awe they marked 

Bold Niagara hurling down the steep 

Eternal thunders, while the battle shock 440 

Of rocks and waters in his gulf profound 

Forever by the rushing column swoln, 

Uprears a misty canopy to involve 

The fearful conflict. Eagerly they trac'd 

That land which bounding the broad lakes, erects 

A lofty aspect, where the dying sigh 

Of Wolfe, on victory's bloody couch arose, 

Where bold Montgomery sank 'mid patriot tearsj 

And Arnold urged the combat, ere his foot 

Prest dark Perdition's portal. 450 



2S 

Sad of cheer 
Seem Gallia's sons, as if iheir thoughts recall 
A brighter clime. Ev'n thus in later times 
Gleam thy wan features o'er the billowy surge, 
Poor German 2* Exile! by the heavyweight 
Of a dense population forc'd away 
From the smooth verdure of thy vales, to float 
Like feather o'er the wave. I see thee launch 
Amid the throng ! The deeply laden bark 
Moves like a slave-ship o'er the tossing main. 
Thou spiest distant mountains, and art told 4.60 

There is Columbia. Thy sad eye relumes 
Its wonted brightness, trusting there to find 
A Paradise. Thy trembling footsteps press 
The shore of strangers, and a foreign voice 
Bids gold against thy freedom. Thou art sold 
To pay thy famish'd voyage ! 'MidThe toil 
Of thy hard term of service, think'st thou nought 
Of cherish'd Germany ? Say, does no dream 
Of fugitive delight glide o'er the spot 
That gave thee birth ? Men of strange brows are here, 
Of other manners, and of unknown speech. 471 

And the sad eyes of thy untutor'd babes 
Gaze wildlv on them. Hadst thou ne'er a hut 



24 

Shelter'd by some cool spreading tree ?— a stream 

To slake thy thirst ?— a morsel to refresh 

Thy wasted strength ? that thou should'st roam to lay 

Thy humble head beneath a stranger's turf, 

Poor Emigrant ? Hast thou no bond of love, 

Proud Germany ! to bind thy sons to thee ? 

No charities of home, that they should fly 480 

Thy glance parental 2 

Still thy breast conceals 
The feudal3« spirit, prompting thee to count 
Thy sons, thy vassals. But thou, sterner Franqe, 
Didst with thy persecuting scourge drive forth 
Thy worthiest offspring, they who " held the truth 
In righteousness of life." Backward they turn 
Their eyes on that delightful land, so lov'd 
Of bounteous Nature, yet with deeds of blood 
So darkly stain'd. As the receding coast 
Fades on the wave, the scenes of other days 490 

Brighten their lineaments. Majestic shades 
Of buried heroes rise, array'd in powV, 
As if they still the field of mortal strife 
Rul'd in their might. The form^ 7 of Conde gleams 
As when at Jarnac, risiijg o'er his wounds 
In scornful valour, or with deep reproach 



25 

Silent, yet poignant in his dying eye 
Transfixing the assassin's soul who pierc'd 
A heart which kings had reverenc'd. 

With low sigh 
Where strong emotions mingle, they recall 500 

The great Coligny, who alike in camp 
And council proudly on his front displayed 
The name of Hugonot. But as the sire, 
To whom th' approaching grave betokens rest. 
Thinks of his sons, his eye that Hero^ ^ turn'd 
Toward the New World, solicitous to find 
A refuge for his followers. See, he falls ! 
The tumult rages ! The fierce Guises steep 
Their swords in blood, and the insatiate soul 
Of Catharine riots in the dire repast. 510 

Oh night of horror ! night of nameless guilt! 
To be remember'd while the world^iall stand, 
With stern abhorrence. . 

See, the pious few 
Escape to this far coast. Firmly they bear 
Their lot of sorrow, while they meekly bend 
Over the page inspir'd. Hail, holy book ! 
Best gift of Heaven, instructing Man to bear 
Life's discipline, with eye devoutly fix'd 
S 



26 

On Mercy's purpose, through the wildering maze 

Of fate, or storm of woe, discovering oft 620 

That golden chain fast linking all below 

To Wisdom's throne. Divinely didst thou shed 

In earliest ages on prophetic souls, 

Through types and symbols, a prelusive beam 

Of HIS approach whose sorrow was our peace. 

Hail, harp of Prophecy ! to mortal touch 

Attun'd by the Great Spirit ! Him who mov'd 

Upon the murmuring waters, when the light 

Sprang out of Chaos, and who breath'd the soul^ 

Of inspiration into holy breasts ' 530 

Of seers and patriarchs, when their raptur'd strains 

Hymn'd the Messiah. 

Hail, mysterious harp ! 
That 'mid the trees of Paradise wert hung, 
Wreath'd with unsulUed roses. Thou wert wak'd 
From Eden's dewy slumbers by the touch 
Of the Eternal, while thy trembling chords 
Awfully prest, spake of the future God 
Incarnate, who should bruise the crested head 
Of the foul serpent. 

At the lapse of Man 
Thy garlands wither' d^ and a mouraful wreath 540 



27 

Of cypress buds entwin'd thee, shuddering deep, 
As thy sad voice pourM forth tlie fatal doom 
Of him who was but dust. 

Anoa thy tones 
Breath'd in soft cadence on the wond'ring ear 
Of righteous Abraham. Pensively he mark'd 
The vales of Haran, fond to linger near 
His father's sepulchres, revolving deep 
The fiat to forsake his cherish'd home 
Kindred and country. Then didst thou confirm 
His high obedience by thy heavenly strain, 550 

Cheering his soul with promises of HIM 
In whom his race unborn, and all the earth 
With her uncounted families should joy 
And find a blessing. Thou didst faintly gleam 
Upon the eye of Jacob, as he lay 
In his death-trance. With cold yet pow'rful hand 
He prest thee, and thine utterance was a sound 
That fir'd with extacy his glowing eye. 
Thou didst announce Messiah in his power 
Coming to Zion, as the sceptre fell 560 

From humbled Judah. Balaam's doubtful hand 
Rov'd o'er thy secret chords, though his heart shrunk 
At the exulting praises of the Star 



28 

That should arise for Israel, and the might 

Of that high sceptre, which in distant days 

Should crush his foes. The Psalmist's tuneful toucli 

Rul'd thee. Oh sacred Harp, with skill so sweet 

So masterly, that angels deem'd they heard 

Earth echo their own lyres, and bent to learn 

Of mysteries, which they had long desir'd 570 

In vain to comprehend. Isaiah wak'd 

To melody thy diapason strong, 

Till thy rousM strings pour'd forth in strains divine 

The glories of Emmanuel. Deep they moan'd 

In broken cadence of his earthly woes, 

His word despis'd^ his visage marr'd, his form 

Laid in the tomb, and then in raptur'd tones 

Of thrilling music, chanted of his throne 

O'er all the earth, when heav'n-born peace should 

reign. 
And the fierce lion turning from his rage 580 

Caress the Iamb. The weeping prophet's tears 
Dew'd thee, Oh Harp ! as from thy chords he drew 
Music of heaven, still soften'd by his sighs 
For Zion's ruin, for the wounds that rent 
The " daughter of his people." 



29 

He, who saw 

On Chebar's banks high visions, caught thy gleam 

Of sudden beauty through the parted clouds 

And hasting, pressM thee. Daniel swept thy strings, 

And Haggai made thee vocal, 'mid the tide 

Of ecstacy, that rushing bore away 590 

The mists of time, and made the future stand 

UnveilM and glowing. Malachi came last 

In the long range majestic of Heaven's seers. 

Kneeling, the sacred harp of God he took, 

And prest it to his Hps. His hand essay'd 

To rouse it, and its treasur'd voice awoke 

ThriUing and tremulous. But Oh ! a Power 

Invisible controul'd it, and its strings 

Quiv'ring, were broken. 

Nature seem'd tojnourn 

The awful wreck. JNight came, and darkness fell, 600 

Long darkness. On the head of hoary Time 

It setded, and desponding mortals wept 

While tardy ages slowly rose to birth 

And roU'd away. At length the twilight dawn'd 

O'er the dim mountains, and that day-star shone 

Whose short ray, fading on the rosy cloud, 

Announc'd the Sun of Righteousness. A voice 

3# 



30 

Ciy'd in the wilderness, and roughly clad, 

Exhorting to repentance, with stern brow 

Stood the forerunner of our Lord, to mark 610 

His way before him. Like a beam he glow'd, 

Severing the midnight of the legal rites 

From the glad gospel's morn. But the frail lamp 

Was quench'd in blood, and o'er the dazzled skies 

Rose earth's salvation. Seraph lyres awoke 

Responsive, breathing forth " good will and peace" 

In strains of rapture, and the shepherd train 

Watching their flocks, beheld that glorious stai^ 

Whose orb mysterious cast a healing ray 

O'er all the nations. 620 



31 



Behold they come ! — O'er the wide-tossing sea 
Their ships adventurous throng. Their tall masts cleav« 
The dim horizon, and what seem'd but specks 
On Ocean's bosom, spread wide, snowy sails 
Curtaining the rocky shore. In crowds descend 
The eager inmates, joyous to escape 
Their floating prison and unvarying view 
Of the eternal wave. Almost it seem'd 
As if old Europe, weary of her load, 
Pour'd on a younger world her thousand sons 10 

In ceaseless deluge. Thus, when he whose eye 
"Eclips'd by drop serene," more clearly saw 
Things hid from mortal vision, sang sublime 
Of war in Heaven, the " seated hillocks" rose. 
And uptorn mounts their myriad streams disgorg'd 
Whelming the recreant angels. 

Thither came 
To Nature's boldest scenery, men who saw 
No beauty in her charms, in the dark areh 



S3 

Of mountain forest springing to the skies 

E*er since Creation, on the mighty cliff 20 

Crown'd with rich light, or wrapt in sable clouds 

No grandeur trac'd ; for still their eyes were bent 

In the dark caverns of the Earth to grope 

For drossy ore.* These, in the chrystal stream 

Fring'd w^ith the silvery willow, in the foam 

Of the wild thundering cataract, bearing on 

A mighty tribute to the swelling sea, 

Beheld no majesty, nor deign'd a glance 

Save on the glittering sediment. To Heaven, 

If it were possible, that to the seat 30 

Of God such souls might soar, no thought of bliss 

Could reach them there, except to gaze intense 

Upon the golden pavement. Thither hied 

Ambition, deck'd with nodding plumes, and proud 

In martial port. What saw he to allure 

His haughty glance, amid a simple race 

Content like poor Caractacus to hold 

Nought but a humble hovel .'' Yet he snatch'd 

His trophies from the savage, with a hand 

More savage still, nor did his stern soul shrink 40 

To find his laurels tarnish'd with the blood 

Of Innocence. Here too the patriot came 



Indignant at th' oppressor, proud to dwell 

With liberty, though on the storm-rock'd cliff, 

Where the stern Eagle broods. The Poet^ lur'd 

His muse to emigrate, and fondly told 

Of sylvan haunts, and fairy domes ; but frost 

Chain'd her light pinion, and the sun-beam cast 

That cold regard, which like some icy chill 

Still withers genius. Here, with footsteps slow 50 

Came calm philosophers, shunning the throng 

Who waste existence in an empty chase 

Of frail ephemera, to merge the soul 

In sohtude, as in her element 

Of purest health, and pause o'er Nature's chaia 

Where link by link, with mystic art she binds 

Terrestrial to divine. 

The Christiaiijknelt 
Upon this rocky strand, intent to build 
His tabernacle where despotic pow'r 
Might rear no image, and compel his soul CO 

To offer homage — where the spirit's eye 
Might seek its sire, uncheck'd by the dire bolt 
Of persecution's thunder, and with awe 
Amid the silence of his works, revere 
The great Creator. Thus with varying aim 



34 

Flock'd the firm Swede, bold Danube's patient song^ 

The toiling Belgian, Albions patriot race, 

And thine, Oh Caledon ! blest land of song, 

While fair Hibernia pour'd in throngs profuse 

Her ardent offspring. Guided by the breath 70 

Of southern gales, the bands of England steer'd 

Where the proud waters of the mighty James, 

And swift Potomac, mark'd the broad domain 

Of great Powhatan. He more years had told 

Than hoary Nestor. Thrice ^ had he beheld 

His fading race scatter'd like autumn leaves, 

While he, unshoiu and unsubdu'd, remain'd 

King of the forest. To his region came, 

Aiding the adventurous, one whose daring soul 

Breath'd the high spirit of heroic deeds, 80 

The brave, accomplish'd Smith. ^ His dauntless mind 

And vigorous frame, scorning fatigue and toil, 

Had gathered laurels from the lofty heights 

Of martial Europe, from the battle fields 

Of sultry Asia, where pure christian blood 

Mingli ig with the dark tide from Turkish veins, 

Had stain'd the red-cross banners. 



36 

Buoyant Hope 

Still smiling in his eye, while other brows 

Were blanch'd with terror, or with wan despair 

The giddy heights of Fame he had achiev'd, 90 

The goal of strange adventure, and the maze 

Of deep Romance, ere Manhood's tinge* had bronz'd 

His blooming cheek. The syren charms of wealth 

Cluster'd around his cradle, and the lawns 

Of Willoughby, replete with genial gales 

Nurtur'd his roving boyhood. There he shar'd 

Sport, such as hardihood and danger love. 

Though it mocks at them. From historic lor^ 

A restless, kindling impulse caught the flame 

That fir'd heroic souls; and as he bent, 100 

A silent student o'er his daily task, 

Unfetter'd fancy bore him far beyond 

His island home, to rove in distant climes, 

And act in other ages, with the men 

Of high renown. And when his joyous youth 

Mark'd with a traveller's eye, the varied scenes 

Of Europe's grandeur, not the beauteous Seine 

Winding through flow'ry vales, orcrown'd with domes 

Of gay Parisian luxury, nor yet 

Those arts by which the patient Hollander 110 



36 

Props his scant birthright 'gainst usurping seas, 
Nor Nature's majesty, when on the Alps 
She rests her cioudy coronet, could charm 
His sanguine heart, like the red chart of war 
Graren on hero's monument, or drawn 
In fearful lines upon the furrow'd earth 
"VS'here battles once were fou2[ht. 

o 

The rocky bounds 
Of Caledonia next his step explor'd, 
Seeking its monarch's court : for there he thought 
Amid that brave and high-soul'd race to raeef" 120 
Some kindred spirits. But the pedant king. 
Offspring of beauteous Mary, soon lo wield 
The Stuart sceptre o'er high Albion's throne, 
Allur'd by promises the youthful band 
To throng around him, yet no food supplied 
To cheer ambition. Smith's impetuous sword 
Spurn'd at the thistly harvest, as he sought 
Once more his native halls. But not the joys 
Of softening home might lure that Spartan soul 
Girding its armour on. From the fair domes 130 

Where lingering Courtesy too oft detain'd 
His coldly render'd time, the youth recluse 
Turn'd to the forest, and 'mid deepest shades 



37 

Chose out a silent spot. Riven from their trunks 
Firm boughs of cedar with the knotty oak 
He interwove, in architecture rude. 
Forming a green pavilion. There he gave 
His soul its favourite lore, the rudiments 
Of warlike science ; or on fiery steed 
With glittering lance, evinc'd in graceful feat 140 

Of manly daring, or of martial skill 
His ponder'd theory. Thus the fam'd prince 
Of eloquence, subUme Demosthenes, 
Pent in his subterranean cell, pursued 
The art he lovM, or mid the Ocean's roar 
Utter'd its precepts. Still this close recess 
Was sacred from the interrupting foot 
Of Idleness, from enervating sports 
And light amusements of the giddy ^rong; 
Hither no soft Indulgence gliding came 150 

In Epicurean robe, nor Beauty's brow 
Bent its keen glance of sarcasm to anno}^ 
The mihtary anchorite. But sounds 
Of distant war, of batde grimly fought 
Beneath the cloud of Turkish banners, came, 
Loading the deep-ton'd gale. As the proud steed, 
Long held in durance, hears the trumpet blast 
4 



38 

And struggling, rends the earth, thus the bold youth 

Undisciplin'd, unsanction'd, unrestrain'd 

By sage experience, rushes on his course. 160 

This eager zeal he strove to sanctify 

With high devotion's name, and, as he took 

His rapid journey, often ask'd his heart 

With angry emphasis, if it were meet 

That ancient city where the Saviour pour'd 

His dying blood, should bow its hallow'd head 

To sacrilegious thraldom ? Thus is Man 

Prone with Religion's front to dignify "^ 

His doubtful deeds, baptising in Heaven's name 

His earthly promptings. 

Where Marseilles retreats 170 
To rocky barrier,^ from sea-beaten shore, 
'Mid thronging masts, the traveller's glance espies 
A parting sail, and up the vessel's side 
Ascends with little question. Here he found 
A throng of devotees, in pilgrim's weeds. 
Bound to Loretto, there to consummate 
Penance or vow. 

Loudly they spake in praise 
Of that fair shrine by wondering angels borne, 
On outstretch'd pinions, from the Holy Land 



39 

To glad Dalmatia, and from thence iransferrM, 18© 

Pitying the toil of weary pilgrim saints, 

To happy Italy. Oft they describ'd 

The cell with lingering rainbow^ ever bright, 

Which hath no need of sun, or silver moon, 

Or glimmering lamp, and that blest Lady's form, 

The glorious Virgin, whose meek brow hath pow'r 

To cancel sin : and ever as they spake 

Their eye with mortified, yet curious glance 

Fell on the silent warrior. — Soon recedes 

The crowded mart, and fades the Gallic coast 190 

In the faint emerald of the tideless sea, 

While the refreshing and propitious gales 

Swell the dilated canvas. But the day, 

That sunk in smiles, rose not ; so dense a cloud 

Involv'd her in its canopy. Low bksts 

Moan'd hollow from the bosom of the deep. 

And fluttering 'mid the heavy, humid sails, 

The sea-birds shriek'd. Around the feverish raooa 

Hung a wan circle, livid as the spot 

Where aspic poison creeps. Then as the wing 200 

Of the black tempest wav'd 'mid mutinous winds 

And mighty thunders, while the reeling bark 

Alternate mounted on the slippery wave, 



40 

Or roll'd in dark abysses, ye might see 
Those frighted pilgrims, with dishevell'd locks 
Telling their beads, and calling every saint 
Of note throughout the calendar^to help 
Their great extremity. 

The soldier thought 
Of that Disciple, valiant in his faith, 
Who on the mission of his Master's will 210 

Went bound to Rome, and on that very sea 
Encounter'd shipwreck. He remember'd too 
The arm that sav'd him, and upon that prop 
Rested his waiting eye, while the dread storm 
Woke its third day of gloom. But the stern band 
Bent a dark scowling glance on him who clasp'd 
No rosary, nor in such awful hour 
Ave Maria utter'd ; and it seem'd 
To their perverted minds, that for his sin 
Such evil had pursued their innocence. 220 

Pale Superstition's traitor eye reveal'd 
Her darken'd purpose, ere its venom sprang 
To the blanch'd lip, to purchase with his death 
Imagin'd safety. In rash narrow minds 
The blinding motive from the blasting deed 
Hath no division. As the mariners 



41 

Of Tarshish hurl'd the recreant prophet forth, 

So these good pilgrims in their righteous zeal 

To save themselves, cast out the stranger youth 

Into the raging element. Proud waves 230 

Broke over him, but with impetuous strength 

He brav'd their fury. Long the foaming surge 

With head uprais'd, and firm, undaunted breast 

He baffled in his might. Long unappall'd 

His spirit view'd the purpose of his life 

Still unaccompUsh'd, and believ'd that God 

Would snatch him from the deep, though all its waves 

And water-spouts pass'd over him. 

But day 
Sunk on her couch, and Evening quench'd the light, 
The feeble light, that from the billow's crest 240 

Had gleam'd upon the wanderer. Driven on 
Like broken leaf before the blast, he seemed 
A thing for storms to sport with, or the child 
Of the dark surge, to which he wildly clung 
As to a mother's breast. Alone he felt, 
As if in wide Creation, nought but him 
Surviv'd. Cold languor o'er the springs of life 
Crept slowly, 'gainst his unresisting form 

Rush'd the wild wave, and his despairing ear 
4* ^ 



42 

Heard the hoarse voice of waters and of winds, 250 

As of a death-dirge. Midnight darkness prest 

The wrathful deep, and drooping he resigns 

His body to the tomb where myriads sleep, 

Waiting that trump which warns the startled sea 

To yield her dead. Ah ! when the arm of Man 

Resigns its power^ the Omnipotence of God 

Is nearest in deliverance. A rude shock 

Convuls'd the victim's frame, as if it broke 

The Spirit's casket on those marble rocks 

Where slippery sea-weed binds the pearly cells^ 260 

In depths unfathomable. His rent ear 

Stunn'd by the thundering tide resigns its pain 

To welcome silence, and his stifFen'd arms 

Convulsive clasp the sharp and rugged rocks, 

While his dim eye and fainting bosom hail 

The house of Death ; for thus the suiTerer deem'd 

That lonely isle, on whose deserted bound 

God had prepar'd his refuge. 

When he thought 
Earth with her bars had clos'd around his pil 
Forever ; from that dungeon of despair 270 

Jehovah had redeem'd him, to behold 
The light among the living. There he lay, 



Long in Exhaustion's trance, while the spent strona 
Swept by on drooping pinion. Then look'd forth 
From her deep sable arch, the timid Moon, 
And saw the slumberer on that rocky beach 
With bloodless cheek, and panting breast that heavM 
Heavily, in low sobs : so strong did Life 
Contend, and yet so bitterly had Death 
Urg'd his expected victory. Young Morn 280 

From her bright eye such genial warmth difFus'd 
That up the sleeper sprang, his humid locks 
Still dripping, and his countenance illum'd 
With that inert expression, which displays 
Its sceptic glances, when the muscles live 
Before the intellect; while the lost mind 
Coming from exile, like the strong man arm'd 
Findeth her mansion empty. Th^s, perchance, 
Beam'd the wan features of the man entomb'd, 
In that first moment, when returning life, 290 

Caught from the touch of dead Elisha's bones, 
'Pervaded him : and well thy pencil's pow'r, 
Allston ! hath kindled that mysterious gleam 
When in brief struggle the terrestrial strove 
With the celestial, and dull matter mov'd 
Ere the Creator's breathing spirit gave 
Pure Thought its resurrection. 



44 

Soon with eye 
No longer vacant, though still unassur'd, 
He, who had deem'd his mortal conflict o'er. 
Strove with bewilder'd toil to wake the trace 300 

Of shipwreck'd Memory. Almost it seem'd 
That the strange fable caught from Pagan lore* 
And interwoven with the creed of Rome 
Were true, and to some isolated nook 
Of Purgatory, he had been condemn'd, 
To expiate the errors which had stain'd 
His former being. Well this spot might seem ^^ 
The broken isthmus of a middle state 
Remote from joys of either world ; for nought 
Like cheering verdure, or reviving shade 310 

Of pensile bough was there. No cavern deep, 
Like that of Patmos, where the lov'd of God 
Saw holy visions, spread a cool recess 
From the sun's fervour ; and no transient gourd 
Like that which shelter'd Jonah's head, and lull'd 
His dark repining, rear'd its fragile stem 
To blossom for a night. But the lone isle, 
One naked rock, lash'd by th' eternal surge 
Appall'd the eye. Not with such poignant woe 
The solitary glance of Selkirk fell 320 



On lone Fernandez ; there were bowers of shade, 
Green earth, fair plants, nutritious roots and fruits 
To cheer existence, there the bounding goats 
Furnish'd his household flock, the gentle kids 
Lay at his feet, and fondly seem'd to claim 
Companionship. 

-But here was nought to break 

The rayless gloom of sceptred solitude, 

Nor foot of animal, nor chirp of bird. 

Nor e'en a shrub, on which might hang one nest, 

For the poor hermit's heart to watch and love. 330 

Words intermix'd with sighs at length burst forth, 

And strange their utterance seem'd, where human tone 

Had never woke before, the slumbering cell 

Of unborn Echo 

" Ah ! is this sad_spot 
My place of doom ? No more must I behold 
The countenance of man ? Ne'er hear his voice 
Answering to mine ? Methinks the serpent's hiss . 
Were music to this ever-dashing wave. 
The sight of the most loath'd of Nature's works, 
Vile worm, or slimy snail, or swollen toad, 340 

Were joy. Shall withering famine terminate 
My dateless being on this nameless shore ? 



46 

Then what avails how drear the solitude 

That hangs its blackening curtain o'er a grave 

Which none may visit ? A dissever'd link 

From vast Creation's chain, no pitying voice 

Of kindred or of friend shall e'er inquire 

Whose bones lie bleaching on this blasted bourne 

Of desolation. Hence ! away ye hopes, 

Pictur'd in childhood, treasur'd in gay youth, 350 

Vain, airy bubbles ! See, the lofty plans 

Of proud Ambition, luring me to join 

My name with heroes, see the glorious scroll 

Unroll'd by Fancy, shrivel to the seal 

Of blank Oblivion." 

With such groans, perchance, 
Though stung to deeper agony, complain'd 
The fugitive of Elba, from whose head 
The crown had fall'n. His prison isle he pacM 
With frantic step, and o'er the sounding beach 
Roving like maniac, tax'd with madd'ning curse 360 
And ceaseless question, the unresting wave. 
Yet was he not alone, for round him throng'd 
Thin spectral shapes from Lodi's bloody field. 
From Jena, Jaffa, Borodino's bound, 
Dread Austerlitz, Marengo, Moscow's wreck, 



47 

From countless scenes they rose, and flitting sought 
To gaze on their destroyer. Conscience shrunk 
At sohtude so populous, and Pride, 
Which quell'd Remorse, wept at Ambition's goad, 
Vexing, like him of Macedon, to find 370 

Bounds to hs conquest. 

Would ye ask what throng'd 
The mental temple, when in frowns he rov'd 
Listning indignant to the Atlantic roar 
On lone St. Helena ? Did Memory's torch 
Light up his past career, o'er blasted earth, 
And wasted being, subjugated realms 
And " seas of flame ;"'— ^or Pity bear the wail 
Of childless parent, and of sireless babe ? 
Did pale Remorse, lifting her serpent scourge. 
Come with the manes of the mighty dead 380 

Who fell by treachery ? Did despair announce 
The fearful miseries of the falsely great ? 
Or sad Contrition wake the pungent tear 

Tiiat cleanses guilt ? 

Peace ! for his doom is seal'd. 
Man may not scan the conflict of the soul 
Wlien the chill lip drinks the last bitter drop 
Of life's exhausted cup. Man may not pass 



48 

Verdict upon the heart, which the High Judge 

Alone explores. Nor should he rashly hurl 

His condemnations forth, since he, himself 390 

With all his fancied, all his just deserts, 

Is but an erring, trembhng candidate 

For his Creator's mercy. 

Turn we now 
To that lone exile on yon islet dark, 
Wiio in the breathless struggle where fair Hope 
Too weak for contest, copes with pallid Fear, 
Descries a sail. Advancing where the rock "^ 
Strikes its sharp bastion farthest in the main, 
His hand he waves in agony, and wastes 400 

The remnant of his voice. Ah, see ! a boat 
Approaches him. Already he perceives 
The quick dash of the oar, and the light foam 
Rippling around its prow. Holy that sight, 
As the ark's casement to the trembling Dove 
Whose weary pinion o'er the shoreless waste 
Droop'd as in death. Not once the exile thought 
If friend or foe approach him, the proud Turk, 
Or wily Arab, or brute Algerine, 
All the stern ills that man inflicts on man, 
Slavery, or galley-chain, or ceaseless toil 410 



49 

Seem'd in that hour of wild emotion, light 

To everduring loneliness. The voice 

Of Man once more accosts him, a kind arm 

Supports his feeble steps to reach the boat 

And scale the vessel's side, while fainting, pale, 

And speechless, he admits the tide of joy 

To whelm his soul. Stretch'd on the ready couch, 

Reviv'd with welcome cordials and the tone 

Of sympathy, the sufferer's heart expands 

In boundless gratitude, to that blest Pow'r, 420 

Who snatch'd him from his dungeon ; while the bands 

Of courteous France, who listened to his tale, 

Exulting, that their gallant ship had sav'd 

A fellow-creature, merg'd in that pure joy 

The light aversion which their native coast 

And sea-girt Albion cherish. LongtlTey cruis'd 

O'er the untroubled waters, mark'd the coast 

Of sultry Afric, caught the fragrant gales 

That fan Sicilian vineyards, cross'd the tide 

Of the rough Adriatic, steer'd with care 430 

Amid Ionian quicksands, and beheld 

The -^gean wave with sprinkled lustre bright 

Of emerald islets, where the classic Muse 

Delights to linger. There old Tenedos 



50 

Frown'd upon ruin'd Ilion ; Lemnos hush'd 

Her Cyclopean forge ; while Lesbian heights 

Still seem'd to echo to Alcaeus's harp, 

And Sappho's fond complaint. There Samos spread 

Her beauteous harbours o'er the violent wave, 

While in perspective soft, her green fields gleam'd 440 

In semi-annual harvest, ^° rich with tints 

Of purple light ; the clustering Cyclades 

Girt in their rocky zone the Delphic isle 

No more oracular, where glowing clouds _^ 

Of golden lustre, ting'd with crimson dies, 

Canopy pure Parnassus. 

Rosy Rhodes,* ^ 

No longer by its proud Colossus mark'd 

Stretch'd its triangular scale, as if to catch 

Those golden show'rs* ^ which testified the love 

Of ardent Phoebus 5 while the Cretan vales 450 

Cloth'd with their fruitage fair the awful base 

Of that stern mountain, boastful of the birth 

Of Jove the Thunderer. 

Towards the setting Sun 
Their course they bend, when, ploughing o'er the deep 
Her transverse path with heavy laden keel, 
A ship they spy, whose waving colours spoke 



51 

Of haughty Venice. Hasting they prepare 

For naval combat. Decks are clear'd, Hght sails 

FurPd, lest their playful wantonness impede 

Decisive action, while those engines dire 460 

Which flash destruction o'er the echoing wave, 

Unlash'd are levell'd, and from their deep vents 

The tompions drawn. Inspir'd with warhke joy 

The soul of Smith rush'd to his eagle eye, 

Darting uawonted lightnings. Every spot 

He seera'd to traverse ; now, in grave debate 

Consulting with the Master, how to pour 

With best effect their battery on the foe ; 

Now, gliding o'er the deck with watchful glance 

Of keen inspection ; now, into the souls 470 

Of wondering Frenchmen pouring that proud zeal 

Which nerves a British tar. Thus -the bold king, 

Harry of Monmouth, cheer'd his doubting troops 

For Agincoiirt's dread field ; with his gay smile 

Inspiring courage, brightening the wan brow 

Of Apprehension, while his valorous heart 

Impatient chode the interrupting night 

Which " like a foul and ugly witch did limp 

So lazily away." Short space was here 

Jn this wild contest on the briny plain 480 



52 

For courtesy or signal of attack : 
The volleying broadsides deal Destruction's blast, 
Life fled in purple streams, but still the wrath 
Of Man subsided not. The shivering masts, 
And sides transpierc'd, witness in fearful wounds 
The strife of human passions, when they war 
And yield not. 

From the Galhc ship, a band 
Forth sally, bright their boarding axes shine 
Through sable wreaths of smoke, while they essay 
"With vigorous action to ascend the deck 490 

Of the Venetian. Clamorous blows resound 
And shouts outrageous, till the invaders, hurl'd 
Back from their slippery footing, darkly plunge 
Beneath the redd'ning element. Yet see ! 
Another band, unaw'd by Danger's front, 
Dare the same fate, with desperate ardour fir'd, 
And o'er the bowsprit rushing to the deck. 
Wade through their comrade's blood. 

Hov/ can I paint 
The features of that scene f My pencil shrinks 
From dies so deep ! Oh ! 'twas a fearful sight 500 
To souls who love not carnage, to behold 
God's image in the human form so marr'd, 



58 

And his blest Work defac'd. The deed was done. 
The hoarse, terrific din of battle o'er, 
But many a gallant man, whose warm lip pour'd 
Impetuous words to urge the contest on, 
Saw not the victory, nor heard the shout 
When Venice struck to France. O'er the smooth wave 
Her trackless course the victor ship pursued ; 
Not quite unscath'd ; but, as the knight, returned 510 
From tournament, heeds not his batter'd helm, 
And sever'd cuirass, nor the puny wounds 
That goad his side, since ever in his mind 
The vivid image of his unhors'd foe 
Banishes pain and loss. The exulting crew 
Boastful in garrulous joy, incessant trac'd 
Their chart of conquest, emulous to meet 
A second enemy. But the lone youth, 
Whose changeful fortunes we pursue, oft sigh'd 
For sweet release from durance on the wave, 520 

And like a landsman pin'd, whene'er he thought 
Of the pure verdure, and salubrious breeze, 
And busy haunts, where answering voices blend 
In cheering echo. Him at lenght they sent, 
In feeble boat to that delightful shore 
Which spread a refuge for the Hero's toil, 
5* 



54 

Who from Troy's flame, wild ocean's adverse surge 
And Juno's harsh inexorable hate 
Scap'd through long wanderings. 

Glad th' enfranchis'd youth 
JMark'd the rough line of that peninsular coast, 530 
Enraptur'd revell'd in the firm support 
Of Earth, his mother, and once more beheld 
Her brilliant garments, and alluring fruits. 
With joy unutterable. Soon his course 
In eager speed toward Rome's imperial seat .^ 
He pointed ; for in boyhood's brightest hour 
Thither, on Fancy's pinion, had he flown 
To search and question Cesar's sepulchre : 
And thither now, half doubting, as if dreams 
Involv'd him in their tissue, he arriv'd. 540 

With reverence gazM he on the Queen of earth, 
Who in the mouldering of her gorgeous robes. 
And ancient diadem, still rose in pomp 
Of dread magnificence. His rapt eye saw 
In warrior vision, when with sceptred pride, 
Seated upon her seven-hilFd throne, she cast 
The rays of her dominion on the wings 
Of the unresting Sun, and bade them reach 
All realms that saw his light. With pausing step 



66 

Alone he wanderM, 'mid those mighty wrecks 55Q 

Which Man had consecrated, but old Time 
Respected not, and bade the unsightly weed 
And slimy snail deface. Anon he mark'd 
Strong massy fabricks, on whose fronts sublime 
Dwelt hoar Antiquity, ruling the wrath 
And spoil of ages. There unnumber'd fanes 
Tower'd in the gracefulness of modern skill, 
Where cluster'd columns rearM their cornice fair, 
And fretted architrave, tli' Ionic chaste, 
Time-honour'd Doric, or Corinthian rich, 560 

Or simple Tuscan. The admiring youth 
Mark'd with a gaze intense of wondering awe 
Vespasian's Coliseum, where, the Goth^*^ 
Who led his barbarous legions to the spoil 
Of the despis'd magnificence of Rome, 

Stood in amazement 

That Ellipsis vast 
Reveal'd the hand of Titus, who resum'd 
The work his dying sire left unfulfilPd. 
From those arcades, those pillars that embrace 
Within their pond'rous and wide-stretching grasp 570 
That spacious amphitheatre, erst rose, 
As from the Egyptian house of bondage, sighs 



56 

Of captive Israel, labouring and oppressed ; 

Though no deliverer, call'd by Heaven, came fortk 

From his rush cradle on the turbid stream 

To break thei;' yoke. Still might the eye recall 

Through mi$t of gath'ring ages, through the wreck 

Of Devastation's wantonness,^"* that spot 

Where the pavilion, with its purple pomp,^* 

And proud, imperial blazonry, enshrin'd 580 

The dignity of Rome ; still might it mark 

The Cunei,^® dividing with strict care 

Patrician from Plebeian, even in sports 

Whose baseness levell'd all to the same rank 

Of degradation, weighing jealously 

Each vain distinction ; there might still be trac'd 

The radiatory passages, where throng'd 

Crown'd Emperors, and savage beasts, and men 

Abject as they ; and there stood gaping wide 

Those Vomitories,^ ^ whence the noisy croud 590 

Issu'd abrupt. Swept by winds of Heaven 

Was that vast structure, open to the wrath 

Of raging elements ; no more was rear'd 

The spreading Velum's^ ^ gorgeous canopy 

To shelter from the solar beam, or storm 

Those pitiless throngs, deep gazing on the scenes 



57 

Of inhumanity. There, with vigorous arm 

And rigid muscles, nerv'd to utmost strength 

By uncomplaining Agony, wild wrath, 

Undaunted courage, or intense despair, 606 

Fought the stern Gladiators :^ ^ stung to rage. 

The lordly Lion, the mad Elephant, 

The foaming Tyger, the Hyena fierce, 

Baffled the hunter's skill, or madly rush'd 

Upon his spear, champing with bloody jaws 

The murderous weapon. And alas ! how oft 

Drank that Arena's dust the peaceful tide 

Flowing from christian veins, w^hen strong in faith 

Those holy victims, pouring forth pure pray'rs 

For persecuting foes, were given a prey 610 

To monster's teeth. 

There thou didst-yield thy breath, 
Ignatius, mhred prelate of that church, 
Which first^® upon its sacred banner bore 
The name of Christ. Full on thy rapt ear pour'd 
The melody of heaven,^! where the blest choir 
With harp and voice, in high alternate swell 
Hymn'd the Eternal, till thy tranced soul 
Wrapt in extatic vision, scorn'd the bounds 
Of Earth's low confine. But a martyr's doom 



68 

Awaited tliy decline ; and thou didst meet 620 

Its pangs, rejoicing that thy soul should haste 

To its reward, while high devotion's pray'r 

Ascended for the parricides who rent 

Thy feeble span. Methinks the Lions pause 

In their career. Did thine uplifted eye 

Intently fix'd on Heaven imbibe new beams 

Of awful lustre, till brute Instinct shrank 

To mar that kneeling form, and clot with blood 

Those silver locks ? 

Yet there was Beauty's eye, 
Gazing unmov'd upon the ghastly wound, 630 

And gasping bosom ; hearts, which should have been 
At every scene of woe, as liquid balm 
Distiird in Pity's heavenly dew, grew hard. 
Grew obdurate as the flarae-temper'd steel, 
Till female softness turn'd her exile foot 
From pagan Rome 

Sick'ning at thoughts like these 
The youth with fond enthusiasm rush'd to seek 
Trajan's fair victor column, where it rear'd 
Its tow'ring shaft, pure as the snows that crown 
The Alpine heights. Its pedestal display'd 640 

Four birds of Jove, depending from whose beaks 



59 

In rich luxuriance flow'd the laurel wreath, 

And ah ! so well those polish'd leaflets twin'd 

Their slender fibres, with so light a grace 

Ruffled the Eaglets' plumage, that the art 

Of bold Apollodorus seem'd to have taught 

The cold and steadfast marble how to vie 

With nature's life and beauty. There the youth 

Knelt in low reverence, while in ardent tone 

Burst forth his homage from unconscious lips — 650 

" Awful and glorious Man ! at whose dread name 

Trembled far distant realms, while haughty Rome 

Wove it with stars into her diadem. 

Gem of her pride, and bond of loyalty. 

Subjected Dacia felt thy vengeful sword, 

Assyria was thy suppliant, the arm'd throngs 

Of wide Armenia, the infuriate hordjes- 

From Mesopotamian mountains, and the tribes 

Barbarous and rude, from where the Euxine roars 

To the vex'd Caspian, bent with vassal awe 660 

Th' imploring glance on thee. Thy curb controuPd^* 

The tossing Danube, and with force sublime 

Treading the trackless deep, thy lofty prow 

First to old Ocean's angry billows taught 

Rome's will to reign." 



60 

Ling'ring o'er Trajan's fame 
In contemplation deep, the abstracted youth 
Hung with a soldier's rapture ; then with eye 
Dazzled and dimm'd by countless monuments 
That mark the lost illustrious, he explored 
The arch of Titusj^s nch with victories 670 

O'er humbled Judah. There with sinuous trace 
O'er the fair sculpture, rapid Jordan rov'd. 
While on its banks the weeping captives throng'd, 
With heads declin'd. And there were sacred spoils 
Scatter'd in careless triumph, the high trump"^ 
Whose silver sound warn'd to the Jubilee, 
The golden Candlestick, whose wreathed branch 
Fed with pure oil, shed o'er the sanctuary 
UnsuUied light, the table consecrate 
To the shew^-bread, which none but holy hands 68(5 
Might touch unsinning. the mysterious ark, 
The fearful tables of the Eternal Law, 
The sacrificial altar, ah ! what pangs 
Wrung thee, deserted Zion, when these spoils 
Were won by Rome. Thy broken, ruin'd tow^ers, 
Thy reeking stones, thy city furrow'd deep 
By Desolation's ploughshare, the dire cross, 
Stern sword, gaunt Famine, sated with thy sons, 



61 

And that majestic, dedicated dome, 

The temple of Jehovah, given to feed GOO 

The Gentile dame, and thy weak remnant made 

A hissing, an astonishment, a taunt 

To every nation ; how these countless woes, 

Immeasurable as th* unfathom'd sea, 

Announce thy guilt, and verify the truth 

Of HIM who cannot err ; and will they not. 

Oh ! thou afflicted, tempest-tost, despis'd 

And reft of comfort, will they not at length 

Ope thy blind eye to Him, whom thou didst pierce 

And crucify, that thou might'st mourn and live? 700 

Who witli a traveller's eye can search the bounds 
Of Rome, nor pause to muse upon the tomb 
Of Adrian, asking the insensate winds. 
How they can winnow as unhallow'd dust 
Its consecrated glory ? Who can shun 
To gaze upon the lofty columiTi'ear'd 
To pious Antoninus, by the hand 
OS good Aurelius, sharer of his fame 
Virtue and dignity, who early w^ise^^ 
Learnt with a philosophic sway to quell 710 

The passions' mutiny. Ev'n hoary Time 
Reveres that fabric, and commands the years 
6 _ 



62 

That in their revolution blindly wield 

Destruction's besom, and exulting stamp 

Oblivion's seal, to spare that marble spire 

Its simple beauty, nor to rend the pile 

Which bears the second Numa's spotlees fame. 

Half sunk in Earth, the wanderer trac'd his arch 

Who on fair Albion's isle resign'd his breath, 

Septimius Severus. 720 

Dark with throngs 

Of flying Parthians, was its scroll sublime; 

But gathering ages, dense with mouldering dust, 

Obscur'd the Hero's emblem, with keen touch 

Corroding what the impotence of Man 

Pronounc'd immortal. With a statelier front, 

Just where the dark base of the Caelian Mount 

Confronts the Palatine, tower'd the white arch 

Of the blest christian Emperor, Constantine,^* 

Who bade the sword of persecution cease 

To vex the bleeding church. There paus'd the youth, 

Reviewing the recorded tints that glow'd 731 

Ok memory's tablet ; for his soul was proud 

To hold communion with the awful shades 

Of Emperors, and warriors, and stern Chiefs 

Who rul'd the rage of battle. With less joy 



63 

GazM he upon the fountains, sumptuous squareirf, 

Rich palaces, majestic obeHsks ; 

Beheld the vaunted Vatican display 

Its pomp of painting, and time-honour'd scrolls 

Innumerable ; and even with slighter touch 740 

Of strong emotion, mark'd that Basilick 

Rising in deep and dread magnificence. 

Beneath whose lofty dome pale Awe turns cold, 

Offering a while, her trembling consciousness 

Upon Devotion's altar. 

Yet not long 
Might spirit so active be content to dwell 
Amid the tombs and mouldering monuments 
Of buried glory. The hoarse blast of War 
Kindling its ardour to the thrill of Joy, 

Warn'd it away. 750 

To throng'd Vienna's bound 
The soldier went, for there were martial sounds, 
Mustering of mighty men, shrill trumpets' blast, 
Hoarse clang of armour, neigh of prancing steed, 
Where brave Count Meldrich gallantly review'd 
His gather'd legions. Strongly reinforc'd 
By Transylvania's Duke, their blended aim 
Ae;ainst the Turk was destin'd, he who holds 



64 

In cruel thraldom, those delightful plains 

Where ancient Greece her band illustrious rcar*d 

Of heroes and of sages. 760 

There thy sword 
Still ghtters, Ypsilante ! — May it deal 
To the oppressor, justice, like the brand 
Of mighty Scanderberg I^^ he who beheld 
The sad Albanian weeping in his hut, 
Saw from his famish'd babes the morsel torn 
By stern rapacity, and nerv'd his arm 
For righteous vengeance. Prince ! Be Him thy guide 
Who crow^i'd with victory Judah's prayerful King, 
When the swarth Ethiops, and fierce Lubims came 
Like hons, in their insolence to wreck 707 

The shepherd's fold. Oh ! is there not a time 
In His eternal counsels, who doth break 
The Tyrant's yoke, when the sword-planted faith 
Of Mecca's dark impostor from its root 
Shall perish? when the desolating rod 
Of the vile Painim, shall no longer bruise 
Earth's fairest climes ? Beliold it darkly press 
The realm belov'd of Science, where her eye, 
First waking from its cradle slumbers, scann'd 
A globe benighted ; see it crush the race 780 



65 

Whom Xerxes might not conquer, where the arts 

Like quenchless stars, their constellation wreath'd 

Round laurell'd Liberty : and lo ! it threats 

The Holy Land, like that portentous star 

In the red skies o'er Zion's 'leagur'd height, 

When Rome's dire Eagles hasted to their meat. 

It subjugates that land, once bright illum'd 

By blest Salvation's day-star, by the eye 

Of priests and prophets, by the glowing wings 

Of angel visitants, by the dread robe 790 

Of the Eternal : hallow'd by the steps 

Of Him of Nazareth, as forth he went 

Seeking the lost, where palm-crovvn'd Olivet 

Responded in low murmurs to his sigh 

Of midnight pray'r, where sad Gethsemane 

Receiv'd affrighted on her humid sotH 

The dews of agony, and Calvary 

Bowing beneath the awful wrath of Heaven, 

Shook to her inmost centre, at the voice 

" Father ! forgive !" 800 

But now the kindling war 
Assum'd a front of horrour. Siege on siege 
Baffled the Turk's endurance, and confirm'd 
The Christian courage. Fortified in vain, 

6* 



66 

Alba-Regalls,^ ^ and Olumpaoh fell, 

Shaming the Moslem. Mid the warrior band. 

Who by undaunted bravery, or skill 

In varying stratagem, serv'd to sustain 

The rising fortunes of the Christian arms 

Smith stood conspicuous, while around his brow 

The hard-won laurels cluster'd. 810 

-Once, a siege 

Protracted long, inflated with base pride 

The renegado garrison. Then forth ^_^ 

From those invested walls, there proudly came 

A haughty champion, as in older time 

PhiHstia sent her giant to defy 

The host of Israel. With insuhing taunt 

Rang his loud challenge ; and amid the swords 

That from their scabbards started to avenge 

The holy cross aspers'd, the boon was given 

To the exulting youth, whose fate we trace. 820 

The contest came, and proudly on his lance 

Bears he his country's honour. From the height 

Of giddy rampart, thousand sunny eyes 

Of ardent beauty, thousand helmed brows 

Bend anxious o'er th' arena. 



67 

Rang'd around 
Upon the brow of an opposing hill 
In moony crescent stretch'd the bands of Christ, 
While many a silent, interceding pray'r 
Invokes the God of battles. The bold youth, 
Whose burnish'd armour ghtter'd in the ray 830 

Of the resplendent Sun, while sable plumes 
Like a dark cloud wav'd o'er his polish'd helm, 
A second Hector seem'd. Strongly he reins 
His fiery courser, and w-ith spear in rest 
Awaits his foe. He comes, and furious wrath, 
Mingled w^ith scorn, inspires him, as he hurls 
His dark defiance. 

The loud trumpet blast 
Breathes the appointed signal. They advance. 
They meet as lightning, and the unhors'd Turk 
Rolls in his hearts-blood. From the ramparts rose 840 
A howl of horrour when that champion fell, 
As the hoarse watch-dog, in his vigil drear. 
Bays the cold moon. But hast'ning to the field 
Another foe appears. Towering and strong, 
Like mighty Ajax ; his red eye-ball dealt 
Bitter derision, as Goliah scowl'd 
Upon the stripling David. Strictly curb'd 



68 

His mighty war-horse, with indignant rage, 

Foams at restraint, ejects the wreathed smoke 

From his spread nostril, and with armed hoof 850 

Spurns the rent ground. They meet in fatal shock, 

Their steeds recoil ! God^nerves the Christian's arm, 

And on the earth the mail'd Colossus lay 

Gnashing his teeth in death. The victor rode 

Unhurt the dread arena : but, behold ! 

A third appears. Less furious than the last, 

Yet more tremendous than the first, he rears 

His front of hatred, while his measur'd step 

Wary he rules, watchful, but yet serene 

As cautious Fabius. Almost it might seem S60 

As if those fallen foes, dissatisfied 

To die but once, had risen, and blent in him 

Their varying lineaments, pleas'd to create 

A worse antagonist. On either side 

Hung tremulous expectancy, o'er those 

Who watch'd the combat. — 

Thus stood ancient Rome, 
And haughty Alba, with such gaze intense, 
Breathless, and leaning on th' ensanguin'd spear, 
When rose the last Horatius, in the blood 
Of his two weltering brothers, to confront 870 

The twin Curiatii. — - 



69 

Gallamly they met 
Al word of herald, but with careful eye 
Adjusting the career, and with firm hand 
Guiding the spear-shock. Lo ! the Turkish steed 
Plunges without his rider, and a groan 
Bursts from the city's height, responded long 
In fitful shrillness, like the female wail 
Over some favourite knight, whom minstrels style 
The flower of chivalry. The deed was done. 
The prize of conquest gain'd. No other foe 880 

Again would dare that fatal tournament, 
Nor e'en the insatiate soul of Mahomet 
Could longer parley. Loud the shrill-ton'd trump 
In pomp of chivalry announc'd the youth 
Thrice victor ; tears and acclamations greet 
His^lad return, while honours and r^wards^* 
Whelm him in rich profusion. Ah ! but Man, 
Brief Man, when in the spring-tide of his Fame, 
Oft sees the ebbing flood forsake those sands 
Where Joy had spread her sail ; oft hears the blast 890 
Awake against his glory, and disperse 
Tiie light ephemeron. From heaps of slain, 
In dark, disastrous hour the youth is drawn, ^^ 
Half lifeless, pierc'd with wounds, while foeman's care 



70 

Solicits his revival, and preserves 
Existence, reft of Liberty. 

At length 
Restor'd, he tastes of Slavery's bitter dregs, 
And with revolting heart beholds the domes 
Of high Constantinople, thither sent 
A Bashaw's present to his lady love, 900 

The fair Charitza. He with patient care, 
Wrought in her beauteous garden, propp'd the trees 
Laden with fruit, twin'd the luxuriant vines 
Round fairy arches, cheer'd the imprison'd birds, 
Or bore fresh water to the thirsty flowers. 
Him, at his toil, the maiden oft observM 
From her high lattice, where the fragrant gale 
Murmur'd through painted vases ; oft admir'd 
His noble mien, and manly, graceful form, 
With partial eye. And often would she muse 910 

And wonder, if in his dear native land, 
A mother he had left, a sister fond, 
To weep for him, or if a stronger tie 
Binding the heart-strings, forc'd some maid to pine 
At his long absence. Then her plaintive lute 
With thrilling softness she would touch, and wake 
Some simple strain of captive youth, who won. 



71 

His Lady's heart, and how the lovers fled 

A father's frown, to some green isle of rest 

Gay with perennial roses. Then her glance 920 

Would rest upon the youth, whose features beam'd 

With lustre, which the cloud of slavery 

Strove vainly to eclipse, and she would sigh 

She knew not wherefore ; then indignant, wish 

That he were not a Christian, and retire, 

Perchance, to dream of him. 

But other bonds 
Than those of dalliance, were ordain'd to bind 
His lofty soul. Driv'n from the beauteous shades^® 
Where soft Charitza render'd durance light, 
He bends a vassal to the lordly sway 930 

Of her stern brother. Here he learnt the toils 
That wait the slave ; contemptuous, bitter Scorn, 
Unceasing Labour, and the gloomy waste 
Of rifled Hope. Oppression's galHng chain 
Wrought no despair, but urged th' indignant soul 
To vengeful madness. When the tyrant's wrath 
Heap'd insolence with outrage, his bold hand 
Aveng'd it in his blood, ^* as Moses' zeal 
Slew mocking Egypt's supercihous son. 
And hid him in the sand. The flying youth, 940 



72 

An apprehensive fugitive, the prey 

Of meagre Famine, rov'd Circassian wilds, 

Nor dar'd ev'n with a trembhng voice to hail 

His blood-bought Liberty, till in the walls 

Of Russia's frontier, he receiv'd the hand 

Of pitying Friendship. Then, as if on wings 

With which the liberated bird ascends 

The trackless fields of ether, he surveyed 

Europe's exhaustless stores, ^^ and o'er the sea 

When once like Jonah he had been cast forth 95© 

To the wild fury of the elements. 

Gliding with prosperous gales, explored the coast 

Of fruitful Barbary. There *mid fragrant groves 

Where glides the zephyr s wing, with sweets surcharg'd. 

The wily Arab, the dark-minded Moor, 

Unpitying Turk, and persecuted Jew, 

Roam in wild hordes, unconscious of tiie charms 

That Nature spreads around ; as the dull swine 

Heeds not the trodden pearl. Westw^ard he prest, 

Over Mulluvian waters, whose fair banks 960 

Fring'd with the rose-bay on its graceful stem^* 

Glitter'd in varying beauty. There he saw 

Shelter'd by hoary Atlas, 'mid cool groves 

Of lofty palm, Morocco's scatter'd mosques 



73 

With snowy minarets, her princes' homes, 

Painted pavilions Hke the gold-streak'd even, 

Shaming the low and wretched huts where herd 

The abject people. There, devoid of state 

Crown or regali-i, sits the Emperor 

Upon his barbe, and 'neath the simple shade 970 

Of his umbrella, holds his Meshoarj^-* 

Dooming his crimeless vassals with the tone 

Of lawless despotism. 

But the youth sigh'd 
For climes of liberty, and turning sought 
That which the foot of Slavery may not press 
Ere her sad spirit hears a heavenly voice 
Exclaim, " Be free !" and her loos' d manacles 
Vanish, as fell imprison'd Peter's chain 
Before the Angel. The capricious-sea 
Again he woos, to view that native land. 980 

The winds were peaceful, but the wrath of man 
Troubled the waters. Fearful engines breathe 
Forth from their dark, cylindric chambers, blasts 
Of thundering terror o'er the ignited wave. 
Twice had the Sun his flaming coursers quench'd, 
And lav'd his gold locks ere he sought his rest, 
Yet still the deep foundations of the main 
7 



74 

Echoed those battle thunders. 2* Haply" scap'd 

He sees white Albion's cliffs their welcome beam 

Upon his eye, and revels in the bowers 990 

Of his soft infancy. The rapturous joy, 

That hail'd his glad arrival, past, he breaks 

The transient dream of rest, and bold embarks 

A hardy pioneer to this New World,^^ 

Hewing out danger's path. With watchful eye 

Ev'n as a father shields the son he loves, 

He nurs'd the infant colony, which hung 

In deathful hesitancy, and with care 

Shelter'd that vine, which in the wilderness 

The cold storm threaien'd. 1000 

But the rugged brow 

Of Chieftains frown'd upon him, for his wiles 

Perplex'd their own. Baffled at length, and foil'd 

In stratagem, he tastes the captive's lot, 

And borne in triumph sees the royal tent 

Of Worowocomoco. There enthron'd 

Sat great Powhatan. ^ 7 Flowing robes array'd 

His form, and a bright coronet of plumes • 

Wav'd o'er his brow. Upon his features sat 

A native majesty, uncheck'd by age 

Which knew of no infirmity, and seem'd 1010 



75 

Well to befit the high imperial lord 
Of thirty subject kings. Around him rang'd 
His chiefs in solemn council, while their eyes 
Bent darkly on the earth, seem'd to portend 
An ominous doom. But still the prisoner read 
Nought like stern hatred on those thoughtful brows 
That ponder'd o'er his fate. 

On the green turf 

They spread a table, generously heap'd 

With all their choicest viands ; the fair haunch 

Of savory venison, victims from the flood, 1020 

And from the air, and fresh from hasting hands 

The juicy corn-cake. No such kind repast 

In gentle friendship heralded thy death. 

Poor Ugolino.3 ^ Thou didst frantic grope 

Amid thy famishM sons, till thou co-otdst hear 

No more those moving skeletons implore 

For water and for bread ; and when those lips 

Hunger had seal'd forever, thou didst live 

Writhing in burning pangs, day after day 

Of untold misery, till Mercy broke 1030 

The long protracted, agonizing thread 

That held thee from the crave. 



76 



■With courleous care.' 



These sons of Nature gave the parting rite 

Of hospitahty, and gaily strove 

The prisoner to sustain the festive hour 

With cheerful voice. But as the phantom gue?t 

Marr'd Mackbeth's banquet, so the morsel fail'd 

To gratify the sense, and bitter dregs 

From the sweet draught clave to the victim's lip, 

For on his soul the ghastly visage glar'd 1040 

Of beck'ning Death. The fatal feast was o'er j^ 

A.nd to his doom the pinion'd captive led. 

Yet no exulting shout, no taunting hiss 

Broke on the deep solemnity ; it seem'd 

A deed of stern, reluctant policy, 

Averting evil, not avenging hate. 

Heroic Andre ! Thou, perchance didst fall 

Amid such sadness ; for the bursting sigh 

Of sympathy, from strangers and from foes. 

Bore tribute to thy virtues, and deplor'd 1050 

Thine ignominious fate. 

But now are rear'd 
Four massy clubs, high o'er the victims head, 
While the grim warriors, with averted face 
Await the sisnal. One brief interval 



11 

l3f imguishM thought convuls'd the sufferer's mind •• 

That all his honours, all his high designs, 

All his ambition's concentrated hopes 

Must end by savage hands. Pride stamp'd her seal 

Of cold reluctance, on a brow unblanch'd 

By fear of Death. To fall in laurelPd fields lOfif^ 

Mid sliouts of victory, as heroes die, 

Seem'd enviable glory. 'Mid the throng 

That gaz'd in silence on the prostrate foe, 

As if half doubtful whether death had power 

O'er him like others, one young, timid maid^® 

Sat near the throne. Soft tears of Pity wound 

Their copious course, and her imploring hands 

Unconsciously she rais'd tow'rd him who seem'd 

Her sire, but from those trembling lips no sound 

Gain'd utterance. At length the trairce of Fear 1070 

Vanish'd, and from those dove-like eyes shone forth 

A dazzling spirit. That meek child, who seem'd 

To shrink as the Mimosa, now evinc'd 

More than a warrior's daring. Like the winds, 

Rushing in wildness tow'rd th' imprison'd foe, 

His head she clasp'd^ 

'' Now let the death-stroke fall !" 
Boldly she cried, " for ere it reach that head 
.7^ 



78 

This shall be crush' d." The warriors' uprais'd arm, 

For execution bar'd in vigorous strength 

Unconsciously declin'd, and deep respect 1080 

Ev'n for a ohild, vvander'd with soft'ning trace 

O'er their hard features. That unwonted sight - 

The monarch could not brook; his soul was mov'd 

To mjirk his daughter's bearing, and he bade 

To loose the prisoner's bonds, and loud exclaim'd, 

"Ri.e! and be free." 

Thus thou the royal maid 
Of swarthy Egypt, through thy pitying heart 
Didst save a humbled nation. Thou didst hear, 
An infant wailing in his slimy ark, 
'Mid the green rushes on the river's brink, 1090 

And hadst compassion. Ah ! how slightly deem'd 
Thy haughty father, that his palace proud 
Nurtur'd the Hebrews' hope : as little thought 
The Indian Monarch, that his child's weak arm 
Fostered that colony, whose rising light 
Should quench his own forever. Thus a flower, 
Nurs'd in the forest, shed its healing balm 
Upon our wounded sires. Shrinking they felt 
The serpent's venom, and this noble plant 
Solac'd and sav'd them. By the grateful hand 1100 



79 

Of fon(! Refinement gather'd, on the breast 

Of Piety it hung, and meekly drank 

The breath of fairer dimes : but early shed 

Its withering bloom in peace. What though this flower 

A giddy world might scorn, because its leaves 

The sun had darken'd, what if her proud glance 

Saw in its form nor grace nor comeliness ; 

Might not its incense rise as pure to Him 

Who weigheth spirits ? 

The unbidden tear 
Rushing, Oh ! Indian Princess, o'er thy grave 1110 
EfFac'd my theme a moment, turn'd my eye 
From those tall ships that land their ceaseless freight 
On the new coast. I see our ancestors, 
A thoughtful band, escaping from the frown 
Of =a hard parent. Resolute they seem, 
Though sad of heart; while their exploring eye 
Wanders o'er Plymouth's beach, and thickets dark. 
All tenantless. A feeble light they struck 
On a cold shore, and oft its livid spire 
Trembling, and narrowing, hke a lance's point 1120 
Seem'd to expire; but still a viewless breath 
Would fan and feed it, though loud torrents fell 
And the wild desert howl'd. 



80 

Do I behold 
The men of peace approach, with smile serene, 
Reaching the hand of amity, to greet 
The Indiana as their brethren ? Meek they stand, 
And weaponless, save with the shield of truth 
And equity. How from their leader^s eye 
Beams the calm lustre of an upright soul, 
Brighlen'd by pure benevolence, as shines 1130 

The Queen of Heaven upon the lunar bow. 
Firm as th' Athenian sage, to whom the scenes^ 
Of life or death, the dazzling pomp of wealth, 
Or hemlock draught were equal, is the port 
Of the Colonial Sire, the Friend of Man, 
While with the diamond seal of Truth he stamps 
His oathless treaty.'^ *> Well might he who sigh'd 
A fugitive'*^ from his paternal home, 
Feel for the outcast ; as sad Israel learnt 
In sultry Egypt's tyrant clime, to know 1140 

The stranger's heart. With kind, assuring words. 
And answering deeds, he binds the deathless chain 
Of friendship; and though o'er his silent grave. 
Time long hath wander'd, still at the blest name 
Of the beloved Miquon,^* starts the tear 
Of Indian gratitude. 



81 

Finn in his path 
'rroil his disciples, faithful as the race 
Of Rechab,'*^ to their pious sire's command, 
To shun the inflaming draught. What though their faith 
Sternness might persecute, or Scorn deride, 1150 

Flow'd it not from HIS accents who forbade 
The vengeful deed ? did it not harmonize 
With His pure life, who gave his patient cheek 
To the harsh smiters, and before his foes 
Stood as the guileless Lamb ? Comported not 
Its precepts with the spirit of that Friend 
Of wretched man, whose advent melody. 
Whose intercession, and whose dying gift. 
Alike were peace ? And when his glorious reign 
O'er Earth commences, when the shock of war, 1160 
The din of discord vanish, who shall lead 
With purer joy, in reconcihng bands 
The Lion and the Lamb, than those who dwelt 
An unresisting, unoffending race, 
Cahn, 'mid a boist'rous world ? Are not the souls 
Who flee from evil, violence, and strife, 
Obtaining preparation for that clime 
Where evil entereth not, nor woe nor pain, 
For all is rest ? 



82 

Long had the natives drawn, 
From the full store-house of the Christian's sins, 1170 
Weapons against his faith. Long had they heard 
A language from his lips, which by his life 
Was contradicted. Long, too long inquir'd, 
Of a perfidious race, ye, who command 
Us, Indians, to observe the righteous rule 
Which ye transgress, by breaking that just law, 
Dishonour ye not God ? But here they mourn'd 
Nor fraud, nor wrong ; the purchas'd land they gave, 
Unstain'd with blood, and on its borders dwelt, 
As with their brethren. Soon that province rose 1180 
To wealth and power, ^vhile on the verdant banks 
Of rolling Delaware, in beauteous state, 
Love's cityvsmiled. 

Quick o'er the ample bound, 
From those broad lakes, dark with eternal rain, 
To the bright bow'rs where sleepless summer sports 
With rosy Florida ; and pressing west 
O'er the vain barrier, and retreating tide 
Of Mississippi, spread our ancestors, 
Taking a goodly portipn, with their sword. 
And wath their bow. But whether the rich soil 1190 
Peaceful was gain'd, or snatch'd in hostile wrath. 



83 

The natives sufFer'd. Slow diseases came, 
And swept them like the insect tribes away, 
Before the ev'ning blast. Intemperance 
Destroy'd her tens of thousands; Famine stern 
Leagued with the pestilence, and in their path 
The mortal scorn, and hatred of white men 
Stalk'd, gleaning what was left. 

Ah ! could'st thou rise 

From thy dark bed of waters, wretched Chief! 

Unhappy Orellana!*'* what a scene 12G0 

Could'st thou unfold ! From thy wide, fearless range 

O'er woods and mountains, by the mighty tide 

Of vast La Plata, from the subject vows 

Of thine adoring tribe, from charities 

Of kindred and of country, from the bonds 

That to the heart's deep centre link the names 

Of husband and of father, wert thou torn 

By Spanish cruelty. The tall ship moves 

From the dear strand, and the red-straining eyes 

Of'thy enslav'd companions, glare to thine 1210 

Unutterable things. Incessant wrongs'** 

Harrow thy lofty spirit, the red scourge 

Brandish'd by menial insolence, drinks oft 

Thy blood, but haughtily comprest, thy lip. 



84 

Deigns no complaint. Humbled beneath the brute, 

Thy high souh bends not, rising o'er its pangs, 

Invincible ; though oft a burning tear 

Would start, to mark the accumulated wrongs 

That crush'd thy faithful followers. 'Twas night ! 

And Silence leagued with rayless Darkness rui'd 1220 

The slumbering wave. What rends the startled ear 

With wounding clamour, rousing from their cells 

La Plata's sons, as if the angel's trump 

Had warn'd the grave's cold tenants ? 'Tis the cry 

Of Orellana's vengeance. Ah ! what strews 

The decks with slain, and bids the purple tide 

To flow, as from a wine-press ? 'Tis the arm 

Of Orellana. See him tow'ring stand, 

With thong distain'd,"^^ as erst on Lehi's sands, 

Vindictive Sampson o'er Philistia's sons 1230 

Slaughter'd in heaps, the dying and the dead. 

His simple weapon rear'd. The coward crew 

Fly in wild terror, for the soul of guilt 

Is dastardly. The gallant Chieftain call'd 

His victor-band around him. None were lost : 

The ten stood faithful, while beneath enclos'd'*^ 

Hundreds of pale oppressor's shudd'ring cower'd. 

In midnight darkness. But the tide of Fate, 



85 

Returns with whelming surge. To thee is giv'n, 

A glorious conquest, Chieftain ! but the torch 1240 

Of triumph lights thy miserable tomb. 

They come from durance, but they dgire not meet 

The conqueror's glance. Not to the deck they rush, 

Where reek their lifeless comrades, but conceal'd 

In ambush dark, from clefts and crevices, 

Aim at the foe. The fatal lead is sent 

In ceaseless show'rs, and every moment wings 

Destruction's shaft. Brave Orellana scorns 

The dastard vengeance, and with glance that speaks 

The dark contempt of a majestic soul, 1250 

Wrapping itself in death, he plunges deep 

In Ocean's breast. His followers by his side, 

Dare the same fate, counting the pitiless wave 

More merciful than Man. - — 

Oh ! ye who feel 

Strong tides of sympathy convulse the soul, 
When crush'd Messenia against Sparta rose. 
To rend oppression's yoke, have ye no tear 
For Orellana ? Have ye not a sigh 
For that sad race, of whose despairing lot 
His was an emblem ? 1260 

8 



86 

Yet amid the gloom, 
Long strove their ancient Genius, struggling still 
For life, and liberty, though awful Fate 
Drew on the darkest hour. Like some tall form 
Tow'ring in strength, against the storm he rear'd 
His front reproachfully. The tempest came. 
Strange thunders bellow'd, flashing meteors blaz'd 
And hollow voices on the troubkd blast 
Warn'd him away. To the cold cliffs he hied, 
That overhung the waters; but the surge 
Tossing and raving, rear'd its haughty crest 1270 

Red with his children's blood. Groaning he sought 
His island home, where as in Paradise, 
The vales were wont to blossom, and the birds 
Warble at his approach. There Ruin swept 
With murderous besom. Tyranny the scourge 
Plied ceaseless, and his high, indignant heart 
Swell'd, as he rush'd to combat. But the dart 
Hissing, from subtle Treachery's hand, transfix'd 
His throbbing breast. The serpent's hideous coil 
Twin'd round his bow'rs of bhss. Fainting, he twin'd 
To his last refuge, to the stormy throne 1281 

Of cloud-encircled Andes, whose proud glance 
O'erlooks the misty globe. But peace nor rest 



87 

Awaited him ; from yawning chasms burst forth 
Volcanic flames, and with their Uvid spires 
Wreath'd round his tortur'd frame. 

Beneath his feet 
The marble summits cleft, and with the strife 
Of warring elements, and rending rocks 
Mingled his death-groans. Pitying Nature wept. 
As the vex'd spirit of bold Freedom left 1290 

His favour'd home ; and his forsaken sons 
Fled to the forest, with wild beast to hold 
Degraded fellowship. Goaded ev'n there 
To desperation, on their foes they turn'd 
Like the crush'd adder, spurn'd and impotent^ 
But spared for longer torments. Yet some beams 
Of brightness linger'd round them ; some faint trace 
Of virtue, and of noble spirit lurk'd 
Amid the ruins. Thus thy fallen king, 
Assyria! feeding with vile herds, retain'd 1300 

Some portion of his dignity, that aw'd 
His brute companions. In their lowly path 
Renouncing Manhood's port, he grop'd, with locks 
Bare to the dews of heaven, while side by side 
An equal lot they shar'd ; but if too near 
With heads declin'd, they prest,^to gaze intent 



88 

Upon his downcast eye, a flashing glance 

Alarm'd the dastard throng, as if from earth 

In robes of flame, had risen some frowning shade 

Of buried majesty. ^^^^ 



89 



Say ! who again will listen to the call 
Of the returning Muse ? who rove with her, 
Not in the pomp of Homer, to the fields 
Of victor Greece, the conflagrated domes 
Of ruin'd Ilion ; not hy tuneful reed 
Of mighty Maro summon'd to the march 
Of his majestic hero, nor allur'd 
O'er the wide wave in wandering course to roam 
With sage Ulysses, nor with joy upborne 
On Fancy's silvery plume, what lime she steers 10 
'Tween Truth's fair region, and the varying clouds 
Of wild Romance, tinting with rainbow hue 
Roderick, or haughty Marmion, or the throng 
Of Caledonia's monarchs, but with voice 
Untun'd by art, climbing with rustic step 
Undisciplin'd, the lone and misty cliff 
Where mourns the forest Chieftain o'er his race 
Banish'd and lost, of whom not one remains 
To pour their tears for him.* -^ 
8* 



90 

Ah ! who will turn 
From Fashion's pageants, from the bright parterre 20 
Of polish'd Taste, where Poesy her gems 
Scatters as dew-drops, from the heights subhme 
Of intellectual grandeur, who will deign 
With meek Humanity his guide, to trace 
Paths where the torch of glory never cast 
Its blazonry upon the ample shield 
Of proud historic fame ! Yet souls there are 
Who love their Saviour's precept to " impart,^^ 
Hoping for nought again ;" Oh, let these still 
Explore the wild, oft snatching as they rove 30 

From cold Oblivion's caves, memorials frail 
Of an unhappy race. 

When despot sway 
Opprest our country, and with wounded heart, 
But soul invincible, the untried sword 
In her own right she rais'd, quick from the wild 
The natives flocking, join'd her doubtful cause 
And struggled with her ; pouring forth their blood 
To nourish that young tree of Liberty 
Whose fruits they might not taste. 

Once as they rov'd 
In our defence, the hospitable shore 40' 



91 

Of war-stain'd Delaware, a band they spi ed 
In England's livery. Their swift arrow fled. 
In fatal aim. One British youth alone, 
Among the dead, surrounded by his foes 
With lifted tomahawks essay'd to sell 
His life as Britain, and as Sparta taught 
Their sons to hold its price. 

Deep silence reign'd 
For one dread moment, while those dark, red brows 
Bent on the youth, his dauntless port survey'd 
With kindling admiration. Thus perchance, 50 

Grim Death hath paus'd, when his menacing shaft 
Hung o'er some beauteous victim. But with step 
Firm, and reproachful eye, a hoary Chief 
Bent his strong bow^, and aim'd his weapon's point 
At that lone breast. *' God of my jrouth, forgive !" 
In silence pray'd the victim ; " at this hour 
Of my extremity, pardon and save 
The agonizing soul. Those whom I love 
Dearer than life, but must no more behold, 
Oh ! comfort and protect. Saviour ! to thee, 60 

My spirit hastes." 

Why did that hoary man 
Drop the keen shaft, that on its^ well-strung bow 



92 

Stood trembling, wing'd for flight ? Why rushing grasp 

With eager vehemence the captive's hand 

Whose rapt soul, gazing o'er the verge of life. 

Had half believ'd its awful voy'ge was past 

To dread Eternity. Thus stood the youth 

So pale, so death-like on Moriah's mount, 

When from the altar, from the gleaming steel, 

From the rais'd death-blow snatch'd, he heard the voice 

Save ! Save thy son ! 71 

— ■■ — ^Reluctantly and slow ..^ 
The haughty band their vanquish'd prey resign'd ; 
But rankling enmity had learnt to curb 
Its bitterness, if he, whose temples bore 
Time's silver crown, commanded ; he to whom 
A race not savage, who complacent boast 
Superior forms of courtesy refin'd 
Scarce yield respect. The silent Chieftain led 
To his rude cabin, rous'd the slumb'ring flame 
To cheerful brightness, spread his couch of skins 80 
To rest the weary one, his simple food 
Gave to his hand, observing with kind glance 
If fearfully he tasted, oft with smiles 
Assuring him, and bending o'er to hold 
With anxious tenderness his throbbing head 



93 

Ev'en as a Father would. Thus, day by day, 

And while slow nights with wintry pace held on, 

He strove to make his ransom'd guest forget 

The prisoner, in the friend. Proudly he led 

To the rude chase, exulting as he mark'd 90 

The glowing ardour of that noble soul, 

Reckless of danger. When slow Evening drew 

Her starry curtains o'er their humble home, 

The patient Chieftain taught the barbarous sounds, 

And uncouth utterance of his native tongue. 

But when some interval of silent pause 

Would intervene, when the youth's soul had flown 

Back to his country, to his pictur'd halls. 

Retracing scenes of recollected bliss. 

Seeking communion with those glowing forms 100 

Which rul'd his heart, the Sire's dark piercing eye 

Read on the varying volume of his brow 

The spirit's changes, till unwonted tears 

Stole o'er his furrow'd cheek. These he dismissed, 

As traitor visitants, prone to reveal 

The weakness of the soul, which proudly bade 

Her guards to veil her temple, and conceal 

The glowing incense she was forcM to burn 

To sensibility. Thus, in his €^ve, 



94 

Stern Burby labour'd to condense the tears 110 

Of sorrow-struck Ambition, till he wrought 
The forge of madness. 

Well hast thou pourtray'd 

His lineaments^ O Scott ! Say, may we place 
Thy name^ upon that canvas, which high Fame 
Blazons, but yet inscribes not ? Wisdom's eye 
Hangs o'er the vivid painture, and forgets 
To frown on Fancy's work, so strong the huea 
Of Knowledge, and the lights of Truth are blent 
With the design. 

But now advancing Spring, 
Threw her fresh beauties o'er the waking Earth. 120 
The primrose pale, the placid snow-drop rose 
In loveliness ; but stormy still, and dark 
Were human passions, and the heart of Man, 
Unchang'd by Nature's gentleness, enshrin'd 
The image of dread Strife. The warlike Chief 
Sigh'd for the new campaign, from Winter's rust 
Reliev'd his armour, and with joyous tone 
Summon'd his young companion to the toil 
Of weary march. Through forests deep and dark 
O'er many a hill, o'er many a river, swoll'n 130 

With melting snows, they past. At length a clifF 



95 

Gave sudden to their view, the distant plain 

Where England spread her troops. Fair were their tents, 

As lingering hillocks of untrodden snow 

On Spring's soft verdure. Gay, the fresh'ning breeze 

Play'd 'mid their folds, and bore to that young ear 

In mingled symphony of martial sounds, 

The music of its country. Every joy. 

And sport of boyhood, every raptur'd hope 

Of early youth, came thronging with the sound, 140 

Came back unchasten'd to his inmost soul. 

Raising that quick, convulsive throb, which mocks 

All utterance. Still he mark'd not that dark eye 

Intently tracing every nameless change 

Which Feeling's pencil, dipt in strongest ties 

Press'd on his polish'd brow. At length a voice 

Broke the deep trance. " See'st thoujhy countrymen 

See'st thou our enemies? Proudly they wait 

To give us battle. Think !' Who sav'd thy life ? 

Who took thee to his home ? Who taught thy hand 

Helpless and soft, the firm canoe to build, 151 

And guide it o'er the flood ? Who shew'd thee first 

To snare the dext'rous Beaver, hiding close 

In his recess ? to aim the arrow's point. 

As sure as death ? Thy lips knew not to frame 



96 

Aught, save the speech of white men ; now they pour 

In free and manly tone, the sounds subhme 

Of our bold language. Say ! who shed this light 

O'er thy dark mind ? But I forbear to urge 

The memory of thy debt. I only ask 160 

Wilt thou repay with hatred f Wilt thou join 

The ranks that waste our country f Wilt thou pierce 

This aged breast f " 

Sudden, indignant tears, 

Burst ere the answer — " Sacred as my life, 

Shall thine be held. The foe who seeks tiTy heart, 

Seeks mine." 

The Chieftain rais'd his clasping hands 
To shade his visage, as they onward rov'd ; 
Hopeless concealment ! for his mighty soul. 
Wrought up and strugghng, spoke through all disguise. 
At length his voice in soften'd tones inquir'd, 170 

" Hast thou a father ?" 

" Yes. My sire survived, 
When from the blest land that gave me birth, 
I parted." 

"Ah ! how wretched is his heart, 
Deeming thee lost ! Know'st thou that I was once 
A father ? that my graceful son attain'd 



97 

Thy years and stature f Like a lion bold, 

He rush'd to war ; where darkest danger frown'd 

His eye was flashing. But \ saw him fall, 

Struck down in batde. At my feet he lay, 

Cover'd with wounds. He groan'd not, as he died ! 

My only one! Strong, brave, and beautiful. 181 

Yes ! like a man he fell ; and I, his sire. 

Have like a man aveng'd him. Blood has flow'd 

T' atone for his in torrents ; and my soul 

That sunk with him, in his red, tort'ring wounds 

Arose to vengeance." Deep convulsive sobs 

Now check'd his utterance ; his keen, restless eye. 

Was wild, but tearless, and his spirit strove 

To rule its agony, as the worn rock 

Battles the stormy wave. Silent they rov'd, 190 

And calmness slowly o'er the mourner^s breast 

Settled, like dews upon the heaving earth. 

Rent by an inward conflict. Now the dawn 

On her grey plumes long-balanc'd, fled away, 

And sudden lustre glow'd. 

" Dost thou behold 
Yon golden orb, and is thy young heart glad 
To see it gild the morn ?" 



98 

" That beauteous sky, 
Rich with prevailing day, Oh ! who can view 
Without delight ?" " I," said the hoary man, 
" Have no delight. See'st thou the heavenward head 
Of yon magnolia, with its ample boughs 201 

And its pure blossoms? Say, dost thou inhale 
Its breathing fragrance ?" 

" Yes. Nor can I view 
That glory of the forest, but my heart 
Is full of pleasure." 

" I behold it too ; 
I gaze upon its charms ; but pleasure comes 
To this sad heart no more. Go then ! Return ! 
Go to thy father ! that his heart may joy 
When the sun rises, and the trees put forth 
The buds of Spring." 210 

While with insatiate zeal 
The Red Manroam'd the forest, or from floods 
AUur'd the finny spoil, the toil-worn hand 
Of his more weak companion, wrought to win 
In scanty harvest from the tardy earth, 
The swelling legume, and that tub'rous root 
Which in their clay-built cells, the hardy sons 
Of emerald Erin bless. Like modest worth 



99 

Oft shrouded in a plain and homely garb, 

'Neath its rough leaf, and lurid flow'r, it hides 

Pale Penury's blessing. This the New World gave 

When in the cradle of her innocence 221 

To haughty Europe, who with curious eye, 

As peers the miser at some new-found hoard, 

Surveyed the infant stranger, and her gift 

Grasp'd as the bane of Famine.^ By its side 

The fruitful maize,* in verdant vistas rear'd 

Its spire majestic, to the playful breeze 

Spreading its loosely-waving- panicles, while low 

The purple anthers bending o'er to kiss 

The silken, tassel'd styles, delight the eye 230 

Of watchful Ceres. Autumn's earliest call 

Demands its treasures, and the caskets pour 

Forth from their silver cones, in streams profuse. 

The vegetable gold. Its lingering wealth 

Spreads in rich tribute at the icy throne 

OS that swart form, the licensed King of storms. 

For whose support, soft Spring in tears awakes 

The infant germ, bright Summer toiling wastes 

Her fervid beauty, and grave Autumn roams 

As a tax-gatherer, o'er the vast domain, 240 

Heaping his revenue. 



100 

While warlike zeal 
l>Jerv'd the bold sons of Nature, as they rush'd 
In that red path, where Earth's proud heroes roll 
The car o'er trampled life, with silent step 
The softer sex, still unregarded, cull'd 
From wild, or fountain side, such plants as aid 
The healer's art. And might they hope to sbua 
The cup of scorn, because they meekly went 
On Mercy's mission ? Does a sapient world, 
Ev'n at her noon-tide beam, accord her meed^^ 250 
To the mild race, whose heav'n-taught Science heals 
The rankling w^ound, extracts from stern disease 
Its sting, and props frail Man to cope with Death ? 
No ! to the licens'd murd'rer, to the wrath 
Of Cesar's wild ambition, to the scourge 
Of bleeding Cambria, ruthless Tamerlane, 
The Swedish mad-man, and the tyrant son 
Of Corsica. When the stern warrior fell, 
Writhing in agony, the patient hand 
Of those despis'd restorers, knew to check 260 

The purple tide, and bind the throbbing chasm 
With happy skill. If Fever's fervid rage 
Glow'd in the boiling veins, with care they sought 
The firm Diospyros,* whose ligneous shield 



101 

Repels th' untemper'd weapon ; freely urg'd 

The cool aperient from the fragrant bark 

Of Sassafras ;® or fresh with balmy dews 

Cropp'd the fair bloom with which young Spring adorns 

The flow'ring Cornus.^ Anxiously they sought 

The Liriodendron,^ with its varied bloom, 270 

Orange, and green, and gold ; invok'd the pow'r 

Of sanguine Cornus,^ with its snowy cup, 

And sapphire drupe ; or woo'd thy potent spell, 

Magnoha Grandiflora ;^° to supply 

The place of fam'd Cinchona, whose rough brow 

Now ruddy, and anon with paleness mark'd, 

Drinks in its native bed, the genial gales 

Of mountainous Peru. Debility, 

Melting the links of Thought, and bjotting out 

Life's purposes, beheld the nerves resume 280 

Their wonted energy, when the pure blood 

Of Liquidambar^^ trickling, or the pores 

Of the balsamic Populus,^^ diffus'd 

Their cheering tonic. 

That unpitying pain 
Which plucks the nerves, close-sealing with a frown 
Ev'n Beauty's lip, which the bold Ayrshire bare} 
Wish'd in his patriot vengeanTTe to entail 
9* 



102 

On Caledonia's foes,^^ yielded its rage 

To the rough genius of that lofty tree, 

Whose yellow armour bears in countless studs 290 

The horrid thorn. ^^ Swoln Dropsy, who essays 

To inundate life's citadel, beheld, 

As haughty Ocean marks his bound of sand, 

A verdant barrier of fresh-gather'd leaves, 

Cull'd from an acrid plant^* and slow retir'd, 

Like the vex'd spring-flood from the wasted earth. 

Pleased with their toil, the healers sought the^cfell, 

Where Rhododendron,^^ like some drooping maid, 

Timid and beauteous, hides her golden locks ; 

Or lur'd her statelier sister's aid, to bribe 300 

Relentless Chronic Rheumatism ^^ to loose 

The rigid sinew. Then the fetter'd wretch 

Strait Icap'd and walk'd, as ho who ask'd an alms 

Of the two chief disciples, while he sat 

A lonely cripple at that temple gate, 

Styl'd ^'Beautiful." 

How vivid is the eye 
Of bright Lobeha, in her scarlet robe,^« 
Yet 'neath that rich and velvet tissue lurks 
A potent poison. But the holy art 
Of Esculapius, can transmute the bane 310 



103 

Of Nature, to her cordial ; from the breath 

Of livid popies, woo the balm of pain, 

The opiate of grief; in Earth's dark breast 

Convert the foes of life to friends, and bind 

Reluctant Hydra's to Hygeia's car. 

Thus, with bold hand, compelling the proud force 

Of deadly Hellebore,^ ^ the sons of Greece 

Propp'd Reason on her throne ; and thus that Voice, 

Which in its majesty from Chaos call'd 

Order and beauty, still in sable clouds 320 

Pavilion's Mercy, bids the broad-wing'd storm 

Disperse dire Pestilence, and tliose events 

Which Man deems evil, work his endless good. 

Intent to sooth the restlessness of pain. 

Still roam'd the weaker sex. In humid_beds. 

Or 'neath dense canopies of shade, they sought 

Where the May-apple^® loads the pendant bough 

With emerald clusters ; where th' Asclepias^ ^ bows 

Her'bright, decumbent petals ; where entwin'd 

With parasitic clasp, embow'ring blooms 330 

The fair Convolvulus,^^ gleaming with tints 

Of purple lustre; or the Cassia^ ^ shoots 

Its aromatic stem, and slender leaf, 

With silver lin'd. Oft raising from the earth 



104 

Her verdant curtain, joyous they descry'd 

That sinuous root, which bUnd Credulity 

Hail'd as a shield against the serpent's fang, 

But Truth enrolls amid her precious spells 

For wan Disease 5*^ or to its rocky home 

Lur'd by a purple ensign, hke the tinge 340 

Of the pure amethyst, detected oft 

The hidden Fever-root ;2^or dext'rous pierc'd 

The Ginseng's cavern, ^^ where like hermit grave, 

Abjuring Man, yet bearing to his cell '"^ 

Some lingering earthly vanity, it rears 

Its simple umbel, lucid as the down 

Of the young cygnet, and anon displays 

In brilliant clusters, rich with vermil dies, 

Its heart- shap'd berries. Lull'd by murm'ring sounds 

Of whispering brook, or softly gliding stream, 350 

The Iris,^^ 'lumining her damp alcove 

With bright, prismatic lustre, to their will 

Resign'd her rainbow lamp 5 and that tall plant^ ^ 

Whose flow'r and budding leaf together spring 

Yielded its pliant vest, offering at once 

In tribute, both its spirit and its robe ; 

Ev'n as the rein-deer consecrates to man 

The uses of his life, and then bequeaths 



105 

His very sinews. Changeless as the front 

Of Virtue, to the world's adversity, 360 

The firm Cassine,^^ endures the wrecking storm, 

And changeful season, by Tradition styl'd 

The boon of Heaven, and round Hygeia's fane 

Wreaths a bright garland, when her priestesses 

Clad in their meek and unpretending skill 

Its aid demand. They boasted to allay 

The venom of the crested snake, who moves 

Slow through the thicket, with a dazzling eye 

Fix'd on his prey, or in a sudden coil 

Involves the victim, or beneath the flow'rs 370 

Winds treacherous, to infix with barbed tongue 

The traveller's foot. 

But ah ! what art might heal 

Their country's wound ? Did wild, oFrugged heath 
Or forest, where dim Twilight ever reigns. 
Vale rock emboss'd, or root-inwove morass, 
Or streamlet's marge, or mountain cliff conceal 
No holy plant, wiiose essence might sustain 
The daughter of their people ? She was pierc'd 
With deadly poison from the serpent's fang, 380 

But for her sickness, " Gilead had no balm. 
Had no physician." ^ 



106 

Slow with deep'ning gloom, 
Age roll'd o'er age, and every bitter year 
Smote with its wintry frost some plant of hope, 
Which the poor Indian cherish'd. Still he nurs'd 
Unchill'd, unchecked, amid the tempest's ire 
His native eloquence. Like the wild flame 
Of some red meteor, o'er the howling storm 
It flash'd, gilding the dark skirts of the cloud 
Which curtaiii'd midnight. Awfully it shone 
Into the soul of Logan, as he wept --^ 390 

That of his race, cold Treachery had spar'd 
Not one to mourn for him ; its lambent spire 
Play'd round the temples, and the hoary locks 
Of old Shenandoah, 2 '^ as alone he stood 
Like the bare hemlock of a hundred years, 
Wither'd, but not destroy'd ; its darting ray 
Flash'd from th6 eye of Corn-Plant, as he spread 
The black'ning transcript of his nation's wrongs 
Before great Washington. 

" Thou, 2^ at whose name 

Our kindling warriors for the battle arm, 400 

Our women tremble, and our frighted babes 
Cling to their mothers, yet whose generous heart 
Still kind and pitiful, has mov'd our tribes 



107 

To call thee father, to thine ear once more 
Our Chiefs appeal. 

" They come not in base fear, 
Who dread nor toil, nor danger ; but they seek 
Peace for their people. Corn-Plant hath desir'd 
To guard the tree of peace, and as he pour'd 
Fresh dew upon its roots, his arm hath striv'n 
With his own nation. For in wrath, they ask 410 

Continually, ' Tell us ! where is that land 
On which our children, and our children's babes 
Shall rest in peace f* Said ye not, that a line 
Drawn from Ontario, to the purchas'd bound 
Of Pennsylvania, should forever mark 
Its eastern limit ? And whoever past 
West of the Beaver Creek, would set his foot 
Upon our land ? Why then, do white-men come 
And take it from us ? Why do our bold Chiefs 
Look on, with folded arms, then turn away ? 420 

They, who had sworn to keep it for our sons. 
Secure forever !' 

" What shall Corn-Plant urge 

To this unhappy race ? His little store 
He has imparted to those wretched men 
Whom yours have plunder'd, and unpitying left 



108 

Without a garment. All his wealth is gone, 

Yet they remain unsatisfied. His heart 

Shudders to think, that when enraged they rise 

To vengeance, their unsparing hand will whelm 

Both Innocence and Guilt. The flow'ry Spring, 430 

And fav'ring Summer, while his brethren till'd 

The bounteous Earth, he spent in fruitless toil, 

Labouring for peace. The Autumn now is past, 

But Corn-Plant hath no harvest. Sad he sees 

His famish'd wife, and hears the thrilling voice 

Of his young children, asking him for bread, 

When he has none to give. His soul is wrung 

With agony for them. Deep sighs he breathes 

To the Great Spirit, ^ 2 when the Sun dechnes, 

And ere his first ray lights the trembling Morn, 440 

He renders praise that he has been preserv'd 

Through Night's long watches, from the restless rage 

Of his own people. For they frowning mark 

The White Man's friend ; and 'mid a blinded race« 

Frantic with injuries, he knows no pow'r 

Can guard him, but his God. 

" Yet there are wrongs 

Heap'd on his nation, which his struggling soul 
But ill can bear. Our noblest blood is shed 



109 

By menial hands. Our Chiefs and warriors fall, 

Fall unprovok*d, and in their crimson beds 450 

Sleep unaveng'd. The haughty murderer stalks 

From his dark deed, unpunish'd passes on, 

And finds protection. From the earth, a voice 

Demands our vengeance. That you have a law. 

Dooming the man, who sheds his brother's blood, 

We know. But are we, Senecas, alone 

Cast out from justice ? May the restless swords 

Of all malignant rovers drink our blood. 

And yet be blameless ? Shall the murderer find 

A refuge in your arms, when our own law 460 

Sanctions the swift avenger to pursue, 

And recompense the deed ? Father ! to us. 

These are great things. That you are strong, we know ; 

That you are wise, we hear ; but we must wait 

Till you have answered this, beforej^e say 

That you arejust,'^ 

When rising cities shone 
In wealth and splendour, the poor natives rov'd 
Around their bounds, amaz'd. Fall'n Pride, represt 
The words of admiration ; but strange awe. 
Slavish degeneracy, and the dark frown 470 

Of banish'd men, sat heavier on their brow. 
10 



no 

Once, to the mart which favouring Commerce rear'd 
On fair Manhattan, their sad Chiefs repair'd 
To seek an audience. From a tow'ring height 
They mark'd the goodly prospect. ^^ Lofty spires, 
Vast domes, delightful villas, clust'ring roofs, 
Streets, where the countless throng incessant pour'd, 
As pleasure, pomp, or business mov'd their tides 
In murmuring fluctuation ; distant dales, 
Slumbering in verdure ; the majestic flood, 480 

Crown'd with tall masts, and white with snowv sails. 
Thoughtful they view'd. Unmov'd, the men of wealth, 
Who mark'd their own possessions, lightly ask'd, 
" Why are ye sad ?" as once Chaldea's bands 
Inquir'd of wasted Judah, where their mirth 
And songs had vanish'd, when their unstrung harps 
Hung on the willows, and their exil'd feet 
Roam'd in captivity. 

To them rephed 

' The elder Chief : " We bear upon our minds 
Past times, and other days. This beauteous land 490 
Was once our fathers'. Here, in peace they dwelt ; 
For the Great Spirit gave it as a gift 
To them, and to their sons. But to this shore 
Once came a vast canoe, which white men steer'd 
Feebly, against the blast. 



11] 

Driv'n by rude storms, 
They sought permission on our coast to land, 
And how could we refuse f* Their sick, they brought, 
And in our soft shades, fann'd by gentle gales. 
Laid them, and they reviv'd. But wintry winds 
Soon swept the waste, and humbly they besought 500 
Leave to erect a wigwam, while the frost 
And snows were raging. Could our hearts refuse 
The stranger shelter ? to our Chiefs they said 
With solemn words, that when the soft'ning spring 
Dissolv'd the wrath of winter, they would seek 
Their distant homes, and leave us to ourselves ; 
And we were satisfied. With pitying eye 
Their wasted frames we saw, by Famine smit; 
We gave them corn, and fed them. When fair spring 
Shone sweetly on the budding eartb,'^e claim'd 510 
Their promise to depart. But they had rear'd 
Strange iron ramparts, which at their command 
BreathM flame and death. Pointing to these, they said 
" We will not !" and indignantly they glancM 
Defiance on us. Other bands arriv'd 
Strength'ning their purpose. Mad, enticing draughts 
Deceitfully they gave us, till the cup 
Reft us of reason. Then they forc'd us back 



112 

From field to field, from forest, and from flood, 

Where our subsistence lay. And you, their sons, 52i> 

Still drive us onward. You enjoy the land 

Of luxury ; while we, w asted and seorn'd. 

Herd in the wilderness. But ye will cease 

Ere long to press us, for our fading race 

Will cease t6 be. Think ye, that we can view 

These beauteous shores, and yon proud swelling flood^ 

And not remember that they once were ours ^ 

And thus rememb'ring, need ye wond'ring ask 

Wliy sorrow clothes our brow ?" 

Full many a strain 
Of native eloquence,^'* simple and wild, 530 

Has ris'n in our dark forests, which the winds 
Unheeded, swept away. Yet, had it broke 
From bold Demosthenes, when Athens fear'd 
The distant step of Philip, had it burst 
From the impetuous Hannibal, when Rome 
Muster'd at Zama — it had been enroll'd 
In History's choicest annal, the pure eye 
Of Taste had trickled o'er it, and the lip 
Of the young student, had been proud to pour 
Its treasur'd pathos. But thy slighted words, 540 

Untutor'd Red Man !— Ah ! how few will traca 



11 



Q 



Their chronicle obscure, and fewer still 

Accord the meed of just applause, unmix'd 

With scorn upon thy nation. Lofty, firm 

And high soul'd honour, mocking at the pain 

Which wastes the body, once thy sires could boast, 

Such as in Rome, amid her better days, 

Had been exalted. That indignant warmth 

Which nerv'd Lucretia's arm, which urg'd the sword 

Of the unshrinking Arria, fir'd the breast 550 

Of Oolaita.2* Where dark Pepin's lake 

Spread its bold bosom to the ruffian winds, 

Her father's cabin rose. Grave, ancient men, 

Would oft with envious eye regard the Chief 

Who boasted such a daughter ; for the charms 

Which in their simple thought were beauty, lurk'd 

And revell'd round her youth. 

'From her calm eye 

Beam'd a dark majesty, that well beseem'd 
A -Chieftain's daughter, though her willing hand 
Slighted no labour, which their customs rude 560 

Impos'd on woman. In her garden's bound, 
Among the plants, and clnst'ring herbs, she wrought. 
With skilful industry ; her raven locks 
Wreath'd round her temples, tharipe corn she bruis'd 
10* 



114 i 

For the returning hunters ; o'er the wave 

Guided the light canoe ; and when she rose 

To shun the angle of some pointed rock, 

With dext'rous oar, her graceful form display'd 

Erect proportion, dignified, and firm, 

Rounded with female softness. One dark eye 570 

Still watch'd her course, and if a billow spoke 

The waking tempest's wrath, with lightning speed 

Impatient darted to the maiden's aid, 

Young Arionto. He, with vigorous arm ^^--n 

Could quell the angry waters, up the steep 

Whose trackless summit mock'd the mountain goat. 

Press with unbending breast. In war, his soul 

Shone like the veteran's through his kindling eye, 

Undaunted and exulting : in the chace 

His tireless foot rivall'd the bounding deer 580 

Whose fall revealM his arrow-flight. Fair birds 

Of downy breast, and rainbow plume he brought. 

As trophies to his love, and his high heart 

Had leap'd to hear that maiden's gentle voice 

Say timorously, that his hand alone 

Should bring her ven'son, and his cabin be 

The shelter of her life. 



115 

But frowns severe 
Mantled her Father's brow, and her heart shrunk 
To read their purport. Ever to his home, 
With friendly hand, and fav'ring tone he led 590 

The grave Omaldi, held in high renown 
For valour and for wisdom. Time had strewn 
A tinge of silver lightly o'er his brow. 
And temper'd Manhood's daring, with the cast 
Of sage, serene Experience. He had said 
" Give me thy daughter, and between our tribes 
There shall be peace." 

The maiden saw her fate, 
For from the sacred mandate of a sire 
Was no appeal. Young Arionto dwelt 
With sadness ; where black shades expell'd the day 
He made his cavern, as the stricken deer 60i 

^huns his companions. Oolaita's eye 
Confess'd no tear-drop, though its lustre fled. - 
Throughout the weary day, no bitter sigh 
Burst from her bosom, and thro' length'ning nights 
Sleepless she prest her pillow, yet complain'd not. 
There was an awful silence on the soul 
Of that devoted maiden, which an eye 
Studious of Nature's more mysterious springs 



116 

Might fearfully interpret. Now the day 610 

Of sacrifice approach*d ; the bridal feast 

Cheer'd with its simple meriraent, the cell 

That gave her birth. But from that joyous scene 

The maiden stole, and secretly attain'd 

A tow'ring precipice, whose beetling front 

O'erhung the lake. 

It was an awful height 
For dizzy Fear to contemplate. There stood 
The unmov'd maiden ; her thin, bridal rohe^ 
And raven tresses floating on the wind, 
While her fix'd glance explor'd th' unfathom'd tide 620 
Dark'ning around its base. "I come !" she cry'd, 
" The bride of those dark waters ; true in death 
To Arionto." — From the frightful cliff 
She vanish'd ! its abrupt, irregular mass 
Dazzled one moment with a flitting robe, 
A heavy plunge was heard, yet nought was seen, 
Save one red ripple, where the shaded lake 
Flow'd on, in ebon stillness. High-soul'd Maid ! 
There didst thou perish. From Leucates' rock, 
Sappho might rush, a coward to the pangs 630 

Of disappointed love, and be enshrin'd 
In Fame's proud temple, but thou, martyr firm. 



117 

So nobly constant to thy virgin vow, 
In the abyss of Pepin's lonely lake, 
May'st plunge, and be forgotten. 

Driven back 
From wild to wild, the natives yield, and sink 
In cold oblivion. We, who ought to weep 
O'er their deep woes, and send a cordial balm 
To heal the wounds, made by our fathers* swords, 
Lift up the band against them, stain our page 640 

Not with their wrongs, but with their dark reproach 
Industriously sought. We teach our babes 
Not to lisp prayers for them, but join their names 
With baseness, treachery, and the shuddering 
Of dread disgust. We take away their food, 
Their hunting forests, and their broad lakes throng'd 
With scaly tribes. Their meagre fonirs we see 
Withering with famine, and to their parch'd lips 
Hold that enchanted cup, whose fearful dregs 
Like those of Circe, change the form erect, 650 

To grov'lling beastliness. How can he stand, 
Unnurtur'd Savage ! 'gainst that potent spell, 
Which baffles prudence, steals from pride its plume, 
Enthralls the wise, and lays the mighty low, 
Ev'n of our race. Th' untutor'd Indian drinks^ 



118 

Drinks, and is stupified, while we deride 

And point him out ; like the stern, Spartan lords, 

Who gave their vassals the enticing draught, 

Then call'd their children to despise, and say 

" Behold ! the slaves are drunken." We prepare 660 

A dry and thirsty soil by harrowing wrongs. 

And the poor Red Man sets it with strange slips. 

And roots of bitterness. Much we condemn 

His mode of warfare. Thoughtless censors oft 

Sneering exclaim, " How cowardly to hide ..^ 

In the dark thicket, or from shehering trees 

Aim at the foe." Why are the palisade, 

Rampart, and bastion rear'd for the defence 

Of modern valour ? Does it raise a blush 

On the bold cheek of Discipline, to say 670 

Its principle is to annoy the foe 

And keep itself unhurt? Why is it base 

To choose a spreading tree, more than to stand 

Behind a parapet? The Soldier vers'd 

In all the '' pomp and circumstance of war," 

Seeks the close fortress, and we praise his skill : 

The native, from the thicket lifts his bow. 

And we decry the savage. Thirst of blood, 

The dark offence, we tolerate ; but cry 



119 

Wo to the wandering slave, if by his hand 680 

Th' offence shall come. Why ? Ask the heart within ; 
And let us judge impartially, as those 
Who in the twinkling of an eye, may meet 
Judgment themselves. 

But still we say, how vile 
The skulking Indian, in his ambush laid ! 
How are such stratagems despisM by those 
Who feel the thirst of glory, and are mov'd 
By nobleness of soul, to the dread field 
Of mortal combat. 

Turn the storied page, 
Retrace the scenes when Italy shrunk back, 690 

Amaz'd to see the proud Alps pour a train 
Of warriors from the clouds. Whose martial skill 
Spread his strong force in secret ambuscade, 
And ere the foe was ready, starting up, 
SurprizM his legions ? Who the green earth stain'd 
With sudden slaughter? and with corses chok'd 
Thfasymene's reddening lake ? 

Oh ! this we say 
Was Hannibal, the generous, and the brave ; 
Give him the meed of valour, age o'er age 
May roll, but not impair his deathless fame. 700. 



120 

Survey the selge of Veii, through the mist 

Of gathering years. Ev'n now her temples seem 

To ghtter on the eye, her ohve groves 

To woo the breeze, and her aspiring walls 

To smile derision on those weary bands 

Who for ten years, with all the arts of war 

Vainly invest them. But why heaves the Earth ? 

Why from her unsuspecting bosom spring 

Men, clad in steel ? who on their weapons bear 

Havoc and death ? Are these the hosts of Rome ! 710 

With soaring helmets, mining like the mole, 

And in their serpentine, and secret path 

Creeping, as the dark robber prowls, to snatch 

Some long-mark'd hoard, until they hstening hear 

Above their heads, the mingling, murm'ring sounds 

Of the unconscious Citadel ? Are these 

The boasted heroes ! who with sudden strokes 

Pierce her unguarded heart, and line her streets 

With her dead children, slain amid their mirth ? 

This was Camillus ! And what heart may doubt 720 

The greatness of thcRoman ? 

O'er the tow'rs 
Of lofty Ilion, wreck'd by Grecian wiles, 
Why does the dazzled eye prolong its gaze 



121 



In breathless interest, yet avert its glance, 

Disgusted, and indignant, at the scenes 

Of Indian stratagem ? The pomp of names, 

The pride of princes, the time-sanction'd meed 

Of admiration, the majestic lay 

Of the great master of the epic lyre 

Infold in robes of flaming awe, the deed ; 730 

Yet Fraud is still the same. 

But that pure Eye 
Which searcheth spirits, that just Hand which holds 
The balance of the sanctu'ry, will judge 
Us all at last. And when the garniture 
Of frail mortality hath fed the flame, 
How will the motives of offensive war 
Endure his righteous ordeal. Wrath ^Revenge ! 
Ambition ! Hatred ! Guilty thirst of blood ! 
How will they difler in the forest Chief, 
And him of Macedon ? Oh ! how will they 740 

So deified on Earth, sustain the doom, 
" Weigh'd, and found wanting !" 

Still we boldly say, 
The Indian cruelty, untam'd and fierce. 
Can find no parallel, in any age, 
11 



122 

Or any nation. This strong charge is brought, 

And they deny it not. What page have they, 

Or what historic pen to palhate, 

To justify or blazon ? To the hsts 

We dare the unarm'd, and conquer them at once. 

We cite them to their trial, where they stand 750 

Silent and we condemn. But would some friend, 

Some advocate, who loves to right the oppress'd, 

Like Clarkson, or like Wilberforce, arise 

And tell these aliens, of the Spartan lords ^^^ 

Who deck'd with garlands, and with freedom's robe 

Thousands of home-born slaves, and ere the Sun 

Rose on the joyous train, destroy'd them all 

With horrid treachery ; or of Persia's king 

The fratricide, Cambyses, o*er the tomb 

Of Egypt's monarch, mocking ; of the pride 760 

Of brutal Xerxes, rising from the board 

Of hoary Pythias, to destroy his sons 

Before his eyes, and o'er their mangled limbs 

March all his troops ; or of Sicilian hate, 

That when the faint Athenians bowing sought 

With parched tongues, the cool, restoring stream, 

Butcher'd them with the water on their lips. 

That quench'd their battle thirst; of the sad throng 



123 

In Syracusan prisons, scorch'd by day 

With burning heat, shiv'ring and chill at night, 770 

Uncover'd, and emaciate, and unfed, 

Save by a scanty pittance, to sustain 

Life for its lingering torments ; of the deeds 

Of murderous Sylla ; of the furious wrath 

OfDionysius; of the fiend-like sports 

Of Caligula, when his subjects' limbs 

Were mangled, and struck off, that he might laugh 

And find amusement in the writhing pain 

Of dying men ; of Nero, who devis'd 

Tortures for his own Romans, op'd the veins 780 ^ 

Of calm philosophers, to see them bear 

The last chill ague, lighted up the fires 

With wretched Christians, wrapt in robes of pitch. 

To serve as blazing torches through the night 

For scoffing Rome — Oh ! had the Indians heard 

Of deeds like these, they would reject the charge, 

Tliat they alone, above all men, were stain'd 

With dark barbarity. Say ! could they learn 

Aught merciful from those, whose impious hands 

Stretch'd out before their eye, on burning coals, 790 

Firm Guatamozin, the once happy prince 

Of Mexico — who through the echoing wilds 



124 

Hunted the flying natives with their dogs 
Train'd to the scent of blood ? 

Those forest sons 
Taught from their youth, to twine the vengeful creed 
With the soul's honour, shrink not to demand 
Sternly, like ancient Israel, eye for eye. 
And life for hfe. Their rash, misguided hands 
Rais'd for retaliation, in blind wrath 
And ignorance^ with no controuling force 800 

Of heav'n-taught precept, oft are deeply stainM 
With cruelty. But how shall we excuse 
The deeds of favour'd Christians ? those who hear 
And promise to obey that law of love, 
Whose precepts bind its votary not to hate, 
Or persecute, but render the meek pray*r 
And patient deed of mercy ! 

What can shield 
The dark ferocity of papal Rome, 
At first so lamb-like, but so soon transform'd 
To a devouring monster, mad with blood, 810 

Driving to dens, and caves, and rocky cliffs 
Of pitying Piedmont, a defenceless band 
Call'd by that Saviour's name, whom she profess'd 
To worship and adore ! Has earth a cell, 



125 

In her deep centre, dark enough to hide 

The racks, the tortures, and the streaming blood 

Of the dire Inquisition ? What pure stream. 

Or sprinkhng priest, or holy mass can cleanse 

The guilty Bastile ? where Despair detained 

The wretched captives, till their wasted forms 820 

Became as cold, and rigid as the stone 

That bound their prisons ! What melodious voice 

Can hush the death-groans of the Cambrian bards. 

Thy prey, stern Edward ! slain with their meek hands 

Prest on their harps, and pouring in sweet strains 

The simple music of their native vales. 

Thoughtless of ill ? 

Where is a veil to spread 
O'er the red visage, and the spotted_robes 
Of France, wild rushing thro' the frantic scenes 
Of revolution, steeping o'^er and o'er 830 

Her clotted tresses, in the blood of kings. 
Singing discordant madrigals, to drown 
The death-shrieks of her sons, or hasting on 
To plant her reeking standards o'er the walls 
Of trembling, bleeding Germany. 

And thou, 
My Country ! what has thy example been : 

11* 



126 

Thou, who hast sometimes sent thy men of peace^ 
To warn the savage of His holy will, 
Who hath no pleasure in the ways of wrath, 
Revenge, or cruelty ? S40 

. The answer speeds 

On the wild winds which rais*d red clouds of flame, 

In awful volumes from the peaceful roofs 

Of sad Muskingum ;^^ in deep tones it sighs .^^ 

From those who visit the deserted bounds 

Of the slain Creeks ; ^ ^ and from the troubled grave 

Of Malaanthee, ^^ in low, hollow sounds 

Murmuring it rises, " Lo ! Behold the men 

Who knew, and publish'd the pure word of peace, 

Yet kept it not V*^^ Say, did the spectre form 

Of Malaanthee, break no nightly dream, 850 

Te murd'rers ? Did those aged features, stern 

In Death's convulsion, and those few, grey hairs 

Matted with blood, ne'er glare through midnight's pall 

Before your straining eyes, till ye have curst 

The ghost, that seem'd to multiply itself 

Where'er ye turn'd ? Amid your orgies rude. 

Has Earth ne'er yawn'd beneath your reeling feet, 

And from the chasm, a dead arm slowly ris'n. 

Bearing a crimson scroll ? That scroll ye knew ! 



127 

And once the signet of mild peace it bore j 860 

Blaz'd it now in fiery characters 

" Heav'n's Justice ?" Did your trembhng joints unloose. 

And smite together, like that impious king 

Who, 'mid his revel, in mysterious Hues 

Saw shudd'ring, by dismember'd fingers trac'd. 

His hast'ning doom ? 

What piercing shrieks of woe. 
Break from those bounds, where clust'ring foliage shades 
The Chehaw villages ! ''^ A moment since. 
And all was peace. Those simple, lowly cells. 
And cultivated gardens, seem'd the abode 870 

Of rural happiness. Now, the green turf 
Where spring was strewing her pure^Dlossoras, reeks 
With living crimson. On the furrow'd field. 
Which his own hands were planting, sudden falls 
The unarm'd father. His young children shriek 
Around their dwelling, and th' unconscious babes 
Cling to their captive mothers. Angry bands 
Urge wide the work of death. Tir'd day dechnes 
Yet still their hands unshrinking, clench the sword, 
Reeking in gore. The hasty, restless night 880 

Sat on their wrecks unslumb'ring, and the Sun 
Look'd with pale glance upon the sanguine Morn, 



128 

Rousing new deeds of guilt. Devouring flames 

Involve each dwelling. Blazing columns rise, 

Promiscuous, glaring o'er the lurid sky. 

Wild shouts of terror, agonizing flight. 

Unequal conflict, groans of gasping death, 

Vary the awful drama. Wreaths of smoke 

Curtain dim Twilight, and affrighted Eve 

Lighted by fury, and unnat'ral lamps 89Q 

Sinks on her couch. Reluctant rays illume 

The third dark day of horrour. Ruin wrings 

Her bitterest dregs. The sword is cloy'd with blood. 

The flames are famish'd ; the scorch'd fohage droops 

Over a black drear desert, and no voice 

Of rustic labour, or of cheerful song 

Survives. O'er calcin'd ruins, steep'd in gore. 

Stalks Desolation ; while no sound disturbs 

His drear dominion, save the heavy tramp 

Of haughty victors, save the shrill response 90Ct 

Of pipe, and drum, and clarion, clamouring loud, 

Triumphant joy. I see the thronging band 

Emerging from the vale ; their banners float 

Amid the forest, and a captive train 

Helpless, and weeping, follow. 



129 

Who are these, 
Red from the bloody wine-press, with its stains 
Dark'ning their raiment ? Yet I dare not ask 
Their clime and hneage, lest the accusing blasts, 
Waking the angry echoes, should reply 
" Thy Countrymen !" 910 



130 



As when long ling'ring on some lonely clifF 

Of stormy Hebrid, or where rocky Hoy 

Heaves with unbanner'd brow, a mighty mass 

Like tow'ring pyramid, whose apex gleams 

With magic lustre, like the ancient lance 

Of some Norse chieftain, summoning the force 

Of scatter'd Orcades ; or from the crest 

Of dread Ronaldi, which like eaglet proud 

Soars o'er North-Maven, wreathing round his crest 

Those dazzling sun-beams, which but faintly smile 10 

On wintry Zetland, with abstracted gaze 

Some anxious wand'rer eyes the tossing main 

Lash'd by a recent tempest, and descries 

The frequent-floating wreck, and swollen corse 

Borne on the angry surge, till his sad heart 

Shuddering within his tortur'd bosom loathes 

The awful prospect, thus my spirit shrinks 

From scenes of cruelty ! Cold horror creeps 

Over my sick'ning frame, and my dim eyje 



131 

Turns from the glare of carnage, turns from those 20 

Who knew the law of mercy, yet efFac'd 

Its precepts with their swords. Once more it seeks 

The outcast Indian, who hath never heard 

His Saviour's will. 

It seeks, but he is gone ! 

Like the light vapour trembling o'er the lakes 

He vanishes ! No more his fishing hne 

Breaks the fair surface of thy chrystal breast. 

Ontario ! nor his rapid bark descends 

The rolling Hudson. Silent is the shout 

Of the glad hunter, in the forest shades 30 

Of Susquehannah. What has crush'd the pride 

Of great Potomac's chieftain ? What-4ias swept 

The mighty Mohawk,^ and fierce Delaware ' 

From their own realms ? Why is thy boundless vale, 

Shenandoah, tenantless ? Thy silver wave. 

Bold Rappahannock, why does it reflect 

No more, those dark red features ? 

Hear ye not 
A sighing spirit from that distant bourn 
Whence there is no return, as if the winds 
Moan'd deep and hollow thro' some broken arch 40 
With mould'ring moss o'ergrown ! 



132 

" Oh ! ye who tread 
O'er our forgotten ashes, who behold 
Our sons renounce their birthright, and forsake 
The shade of buried glory, ye have reft * 

Their ancient freedom, can ye lead their souls 
To liberty and light ? Their heritage 
On earth ye cancel ; oh ! provide a home 
In future worlds. Life's pilgrimage to them 
Is darkness ; will ye lend that lamp which gilds 
The vale of death ? To them, the hand of Time 50 
Yields but the cup of sorrow ; can ye guide 
To a sure refuge on the hastening shores 
Of dread Eternity ?" 

Behold the appeal 
Already heeded ! As the gleaming bow 
Paints its soft emerald on the fading storm, 
Presage of calmness, thus thro' dusky clouds 
A heavenly radiance sheds its infant beams, 
And the dark desert smiles. Thine eye beheld 
Its dawn, meek Eliot !^ with enraptur'd glance 
Of gratitude intense, as mark'd the Seer 60 

From Pisgah's hallow'd cliff, the glorious scene 
Of Israel's heritage ; tho' o'er his path 
The sable wings of Death's dark angel wav'd 



135 

In shadowy gloom. Like that blest prototype, 

Thou too didst strive to rend the tyrant chain 

Of heathen bondage, urge the chrystal stream 

Borth from the flinty rock, to famish'd souls 

Impart the bread of Heaven ; and as he bade 

The writhing victims of the scorpion gaze 

On their mysterious healer, thou didst point 70 

The eye of Satan's miserable prey 

Up to the Crucified. Thou too didst give 

The holy tables of th' eternal Law, 

Not with the awe of Sinai's wrath announc'd, 

Deep earthquakes, thund'ring voices, lightning's flame 

Insufferable ; but silverM with the tinge 

Of the mild gospel's brightness. From thy brow 

Darted no beam unearthly, which the throng 

Dar'd not approach, no mandate stern proclaim'd 

" This do, or die :" but thy redeeming scroll 80 

In gentler dispensation, meekly trac'd 

With sacred pen,^ inspir'd the message kind, 

" My children, love each other." 

Not in vain, 
Apostle of the Gentiles ! was thy toil. 
Nor on the light breath of the erring winds 
Thy supplications lost. The deep-drawn sigh 
12 



134 

Of thy departing souH rose with its flight 

To the approving Throne, that God would grant 

Thy churches in the wilderness to live, 

When thou wert dead. Then other pious hearts 90 

Pitied the outcasts ; other guides appear'd 

To lead the shepherdless. The Mayhews rose,* 

Clad in the armour of the Prince of Peace, 

To cope with the proud spirit of the world, 

ThronM on high places. The poor Indians hail'd 

Their holy footsteps, and the Island vine 

Planted by them, in thick'ning clusters breath'd 

Salvation's fragrance. 

Dying Mitark^ blest 
Their faithful ministry, when his spent breath 
Welcom'd that messenger which bore his soul 100 

Where Mercy, higher than the sinner's hope, 
Prepares his mansion. Nor this Prince alone. 
Bore witness to the ardour of their zeal ; 
Flocks sought their fold, and from the tempest's pow'r 
And lion's wrath, found shelter. At their words, 
Reasoning of righteousness, of temperance. 
And judgment-doom, the fount of penitence 
O'er rugged features pour'd a tearful tide^ 
New and profuse. Thus gush'd in later days, 



135 

In rapid course, the heart's unwonted stream, 110 

Washhig white channels down the dusky cheeks 

Of Cornwall's collier throng, when Whitfield's voice 

Whh daring eloquence, first taught the soul 

To startle at her danger. Thus they toil'd, 

In happy unison. But from the Sire 

The Son is sever'd. His majestic form 

Veil'd in dim distance, drooping seems to pass 

'Neath the devouring wave.^ With hoary locks 

Sw^ept by the winds, the lonely father roves, 

Pale, in suspended Hope, while his fix'd eye 120 

Questions th' unanswering surge. But faith uplifts 

That eye, mild whisp'ring what sustain'd the heart 

Of Nazianzen's sire, "Thy son hath- gone, 

To take possession of that fair estate 

Which thou hast gain'd in Heaven." 

The natives wept 
O'er their kind Prophets' graves; but the wild blast 
Rent not their falling mantle. Others wrapt 
Its silvery folds around them, and imbib'd 
Its hidden spirit. Brainerd woke in youth, ^° 
To search for the neglected, and to lead 130 

The wandering blind. His self-devoting zeal 
Shrunk not at hardship, at the withering blast 



136 

Of wan Disease, at Disappointment's frown, 

Nor at those deeper sorrows which depress 

The mourning soul, when thro' impervious gloom 

She seeks that Everlasting Friend, who seems 

To have forsaken her. Around his life 

Strong bonds by friendship and by love were drawn, 

But rising o'er those ties, the list'ning youth 

Heard 'mid the silence of his midnight prayer 140 

The angel's salutation, " Spirit, rise ! 

Pure Spirit ; haste to us!" and who could blame 

'I'he mortal^ if that seraph melody 

Prevail'd ? 

Nor yet did early days confine 
That generous ardour. Like the rushing wind 
And tongue of flame, those high, mysterious gifts 
Of Pentecost, it rested on a few, 
And mark'd them from the world. 

Heckewelder toil'd. 
Girt with his Master's patience,^* w^hile slow years 
Stamp'd changes on his brow. Kind Advocate 150 
Of the despis'd Lemipe, thou didst dare 
Like Howard, bold philanthropist, to "take 
Misery's dimensions, and the guage of scorn, 
Depression and contempt, to seek the cell 



131 

Of the forsaken, and with pitying heart 
Remember the forgotten." 

Mid the band 
Who visited the desolate, and bore 
Glad tidings to the lost, one Man of God 
Journey'd at closing day. Deep shadows stretch'd 
Their length'ning cones to veil his vent'rous path, 160 
And in stern majesty, those stately oaks, 
Whose interwoven branches sought the clouds, 
Frown'd darker still. The silence of his path 
Invited lonely musing, and the truths 
Of his blest mission, passing o'er his heart. 
Gave joy to solitude. But a rude sound 
Disturb'd his meditations, as the gale 
Of Summer's sudden wrath disperses wide 
The flowers, whose petals tranquilly were clos'd 
Around their dewy treasures. Wild it rush'd 170 

From a high cliff, which like some ruin'd arch 
Seem'd with its mould'ring pediment to threat 
Th' unwary traveller. 

From that steep which seem'd 
No path for human foot, fierce, heavy steps 
Came boldly down. The thicket foliage parts, 
And thro' the sever'd curtain stalk'd a form 
12* 



138 

Of mighty size. Not with a prouder port 

Rush'd red King Philip to the battle strife, 

Hurling defiance. His distorted brow 

Seem'd scath'd with lightning, tho' his temples bore 180 

The frosts of Age. His giant arm he rear'd 

In threat'ning gesture, while a hollow voice 

Utter'd its thunders 

" Whither goest thou f 
Son of the Ocean foam I''^^ 

" I go, to speak 
Salvation to thy race, and bear the word 
That breathes good will and peace," Indignant fire, 
Flashing from the grim Chieftain's eye, announc'd 

His kindled wrath 

*' What peace ihou bring'st I know ! 
Such as we found, when from thy serpent glance 
We slu'unk away, and all our countless tribes 190 

Faded, like morning mist. Good-will thou bear'st ? 
We find it in the grave ! It marshals there 
Our murder'd warriors. There was once a time 
Of happiness for Indians, ere thy race 
Invaded their retreat. Freely they roam'd 
Hunting the beaver, and the dun wild deer 
In their own forests. Then thy fathers sprang 



139 

Forth from the slippery surge, and their pale brows 

Smote us like pestilence. Infernal arms 

They wielded, like the thunder-bolt surcharg'd 200 

With fatal fires. In war, we were their prey, 

As beasts for slaughter, and in peace their sport. 

The victims of their poison. Mighty Chiefs 

And fearless hunters, who like blasts had swept 

The trembling mountains, dar'd th' unequal fight 

And perish'd. Our degenerate race became 

Slaves to intemperance, hiding in disgrace 

A wither'd name. Hence then, contagious man ! 

Leave us what still is ours ! Leave us our gods, 

Our savage virtues! Leave the blighted hopes 210 

That cling around our hearts I Spare these rude plants, 

Those only wrecks that have withstood the storm 

Of your destructive friendship." 

In dark shades 
Vanish'd the Chief majestic, with such speed 
As whirlwinds trace the desert. Calmly past 
The man of God, revolving with meek thought 
His holy purpose, while a pray'r besought 
Strength 'gainst the potent Spirit of the Air, 
Who, like a Prince, doth rule the wayward sons 
Of disobedience. As the Shepherd seeks 220 



140 

The lost and wandering sheep, this good man sought 

The scatter'd Senecas ; with tender zeal, 

Or admonition blent with terror, strove 

To rouse the stupid, to alarm the bold, 

T' illume the ignorant. A little flock. 

Drawn from the wilderness, his call obey'd. 

Following his footsteps in the patient course 

Of Christian duty. Forty moons had shed 

A varying lustre o'er their sheltered path. 

From verdant pasture to translucent stream, 230 

Where their souls found repose. 

At length, a cloud 
Involv'd their sanctu'ry ; its simple court 
Was desolate. None enter'd there with songs 
Of sacred joy, no kneeling sufferer sigh'd 
In penitence : but solitary sat 
Their pensive Pastor, while the Sabbath call 
No more was heeded. Now and then he mark'd 
Some lonely wanderer, stealing near the spot 
Which prayer had hallow'd, gazing as in grief. 
Then gliding slow away. Thus the sad race 240 

Of subjugated Judab, bent the glance 
Of speechless, hopeless, agonizing woe, 
On that beloved city, which their step 



141 

Dar'd not approach. ^ ^ The vvond'ring Teacher sought 

His erring charge, and with an anxious zeal 

Painted the terrors of the day of God 

To those who slight his mercy, who reject 

The knowledge of salvation. Struck with awe 

The recreants wept, but ling'ring doubt maintained 

A darken'd influence. 250 

■ " Ah !" they cried, " fierce wrath 

Burnetii against us. Deeply have we wrong'd 

Our Fathers' God. From those tremendous cliffs 

Where Alleghany wounds the streaming cloud, 

A Prophet hath he sent, denouncing woe 

On us Apostates. Our sad chiefs have nam'd 

A day of audience, when this fearfukman 

Bearing his message, shall denounce the ire 

Of the great Spirit." The meek Teacher paus'd, 

Rememb'ring how the servants, one by one. 

Forsook his Master and his Lord, who stood 26U 

Abandon'd and alone. 

Then he replied 
In that kind tone, with which griev'd Love reproves ; — 
'^ I to this audience go, if ye permit ; 
I, all deserted by my cherish'd flock 
Will meet that Prophet, and declare the words 



142 

Of the Chief Shepherd." The appointed time 

Arriv'd, when sceptic Fear no more might halt 

Between the Christian's God, and that false name 

Whom Pagans worship. Church, nor comicil-house 

Might hold the multitude,^* so vast a throng 270 

Came flocking to behold th' important die 

Cast, that involv'd their fate. Gay Summer's pride 

Had rob'd an ample vale, whose circling bound 

Was crown'd by hills. There graceful foliage droop'd, 

And o'er its bosom wound a limpid stream, 

Like sparkling, chrystal zone. Thither they went. 

Beneath the shade of an embow'ring elm 

Whose pendant branches met the silent tide, 

The Chieftains rang'd. Deep thought was on their brow, 

As those w^hose minds revolv'd a nation's fate. 280 

The people gather'd near, with anxious looks 

Regarding their wise men, while the mute gaze 

Of agoniz'd suspense, seemM to inquire 

" Which was the God ?'* as wavering Pilate's lips 

Demanded, " What is Truth ?" 

Lone in the midst 
Of this wild circle, with unruffled brow 
Sat the good Missionary. Age and Toil 
Had set their signet on him. Travel and Care 



143 

TracM channels for the tear, and furrow'd deep 
Those sunken temples, where a few white hairs 290 
Spread their disrupted shield. 

An hope sublime 
Beam'd from his lifted eye, which seem'd in prayer 
Fix'd and expectant, that the God of Truth 
Would vindicate his servant. Silence reign'd 
Breathless and long, save where the trembling boughs 
Sigh'd to the south-wind, or the rippling tide 
Half murmur'd. Suddenly a smother'd sound 
Like deep Astonishment, or moaning Fear, 
Broke from the multitude. Down the rough steep 
Was seen descending a tremendous form 300 

With frantic haste. His lifted handiiB wav'd 
Commanding silence, and the wailing ceas'd, 
As if in Death. With countenance serene 
The Missionary mark'd him, and beheld 
In Alleghany's Seer, the same stern Chief 
Who with mysterious step had cross'd his patk 
In Tuscarora's forests. The same skin 
Of the wild panther from his shoulders hung 
In careless drapery, quivered in^his hand 
The same keen tomahawk, from his red eye 310 



144 

Darted the same malignant glance, inflam'd 

With rage like frenzy. Chill'd to icy awe 

The natives listen'd, while the valley rang 

With his hoarse voice, " Men of the Forest ! Hear ! 

Thus saith the Mighty Spirit. Ye were mine, 

But have forsaken me. Once o'er this land 

Your fathers reign'd, lords of the treasured deep, 

And of the peopled forest. To their sons 

They left the inheritance. But I behold 

Steps of Usurpers desolate those paths, 320 

And hear your hunting- fields resound the stroke 

Of their destructive axe ! Why have ye fled 

From the delights of the luxuriant shore 

To swamps and barren hills ? crouching to hold 

Ev'n this polluted pittance, at the will 

Of the vile white Man ! To my ears no more 

Rises the shout of war from Hudson's banks, 

Or revelry from Mohawk's silver tide. 

There, where your Fathers, free as the wild winds, 
That rock'd their mountains, dwelt, the Christian slave 
Drives his deep furrow, whistling as he turns 331 

Forth from the trembling, violated grave, 
Their sacred relics. Have ye never heard 



14o 

At closing day, or in the solemn watch 
Of midnight, a melodious, plaintive strain 
Stealing from lonely vale, or hillock side. 
Like Echo's cadence ? 'Twas the wailing tone 
Of your departed fathers ; they whose bones 
These merciless invaders leave to bleach 
By tempest and by blast. It calls their sons 340 

By deeds of righteous vengeance to restore 
The wand'ring spirit to its bow'rs of bliss : 
For there it may not rest, if aught disturb 
The mouldering body's sleep, or violate 
Its sepulchre. This voice invokes the brave, 
The mighty, the invincible, in vain ; 
For none are left. Behold ! what glorious gifts 
Ye owe to white men. What good-will and peace 
They shed upon you ! Exile and the sword ! 
Poisons and rifled sepulchres ! and see ! 350 

They fain would fill the measure of their guilt 
With the dark cheat of that accursed faith 
Whose precepts justify their nameless crimes, 
Your countless woes. Hearken, deluded race ! 
Hearken, for the last time ! If ye persist 
Thus to desert my altars, thus to choose 
With mad credulity th' oppressor's God, 
13 



146 

And follow Him, my wrath shall follow you. 

My forked lightnings 'mid your blazing towns 

Fiercely shall dart, and Winter's warring blast 360 

Devour the fugitives. Ititemperance 

Shall bloat your frames, gaunt Famine thin your ranks, 

Till the surviving wretches, plunging de6p 

And deeper in the wild, submit to hold 

Communion with the dastard beasts that fled 

Their fathers' arrows. From the blissful isle 

In that pure lake, where happy spirits hold 

Eternal pastime, thro' unfading fields 

Hunting the gaily-branched deer, with dogs 

Swifter than light, from thence the blasting curse 370 

Shall fall on you. Ah ! fear ye not the eye 

Of your great ancestors — that with'ring glance 

Which drinks the spirit up ? By lightning's flame, 

By thunder's voice, by tempest's wrath, I swear, 

That in the space of sixty hasting moons. 

Not one of all the Senecas, not one 

Of you who hear me, one of these your babes. 

Nor kindred, shall be found upon the face 

Of the wide earth." 

He ceas'd, and mingled sounds 
Like the hoarse rush of waters and of winds, 380 



147 

Rose from the multitude. Distorting Fear 

Dealt her deep ague; clamorous Ignorance 

Moan'd in convulsions ; Superstition glar'd 

As if the death-groans of the threateti'd tribe 

Akeady bursting on her wounded ear 

TransfixM her soul with agony ; while Rage, 

Kindled with breath of fiery Eloquence, 

Made rashness mad. Headlong the boldest rush'd 

From the torn circle, to demand the blood 

Of the good Missionary. Calm he met 390 

Their fatal purpose, nor essay*d to shun 

Their iron grasp 

" Father ! if thus thy voice 
Call'st thy weak servant from his w'eary toil. 
Thy will be done ! Thy hand will gird his heart 
To meet its martyrdom." 

Perchance the light 
Which round hn temples play'd, was that which beam'd 
On holy Stephen's brow, when he beheld 
Entranc'd, the op'ning heavens, and Jesus Christ 
Sitting at God's right hand. But the grave Chiefs 
Forbade th' unrighteous deed, and with a word 400 
Rescued the victim. Forth the Man of God 
Came, as in act to speak. His sacred form 



148 

Bent for a moment in Devotion's warmth 

Of gratitude to Heaven, his clasping hands 

Prest on his bosom, while his mien exprest 

That perfect peace, which the world's smile gives nOl^ 

Nor can her frown destroy. Near him in wrath 

Stood Alleghany's prophet. It might seem 

Almost, as if in solemn contrast rose, 

Ebal, the mount of cursing, tow'ring dark 410 

O'er the appall'd assembly, while the breast 

Of fruitful Gerizim thro' waving shades 

Sigh'd blessings on th' obedient. 

That faint smile 
Divinely casting intellectual light 
O'er the pale features of the Man of God, 
Blent with his eye's unearthly glance, convey'd 
Tranquil monition that he soon should bid 
Farewell to ills of Time. Then ere he spake, 
Upon his foes a deep regard he cast 
Of mild forgiveness; as our Saviour turn'd 420 

And lookM on Peter. Unresisted chains 
Of silence bound the circle, while a voice 
Of sweetest modulation, sonorous, 
Tender or plaintive, as the varying theme 
Requir'd, broke forth 



149 

" Ah ! would that I could speak 
So that ye would believe, of the true God, 
Whose eye is ever on us, and whose ear 
Heareth our secret thoughts. His hand ye trace 
In mercy on the beauteous earth ; his pow'r 
Ye cannot comprehend, for He alone 430 

Is infinite. Would that my feeble mind 
Could paint his Heav'n, so that ye all might seek 
That blest abode, where dwell the pure in heart ; 
For there dire Winter comes not, sultry heat, 
Nor withering famine, pain, nor parting tear, 
Sickness, nor ghastly death. There the free soul 
Shall drink of boundless, everlasting bliss 
When yonder sun must fall, and this fair sky 
Parch hke a shrivellM scroll. Ye too have heard 
Of that dire place which Justice hath prcpar'd 44U 

For vile, rebellious spirits. There are tears, 
Wailings, unceasing groans, and tortures dire. 
And troubled tossings like th' unresting sea, 
While the far echoes of the songs of Heaven 
Steal o'er the gulf impassable, and wake 
Hopeless remorse. Think, X) my brethren, think ! 
Of Him who freely gave his life, that Man 
Might scape this sorrow, and obtain that bliss. 
13^ 



150 

Remember ye his lot of homeless woe ? 
His uncomplaining, unreviling hfe ? 450 

The tliorns that pierc'd him, the deep-wounding spear ? 
For ye have heard his sufferings, and have wept 
In better days, that He for you should bleed. 
Yes! ye have knelt to thank and bless that God 
Who so had lov'd the world, that he should give 
His only Son to save it. Ye have said 
That the wild savage roaming on in blood, 
Blindness, and vengeful passions, till dark life 
Sunk in a darker grave, bereft of hope, 
Was far less happy than the humble saint 460 

Bowing in patience to the bond which curbs 
His sinful spirit, and with active hand 
Pouring out Love on Hatred, till it melt, 
And be no more remembei'd. Ye have joy 'd 
To hear, that he might lead his little ones 
Through light and knowledge to eternal resfr» 
Have ye not seen him grateful for this life, 
Yet undismay'd at death ? His spirit lov'd 
The blest assurance that its short eclipse 
Should fleet before the resurrection morn j 470 

Therefore he slept in hope. Ye soon must yield 
Your bodies to the worm : Oh ! then believe- 



151 

What ye have once believ'd, for that was truth. 

Behold, as the frail Day-beam hastes to lay 

Its fainting head on Twilight's dusky lap, 

So fades our life. Return, ye wand'ring flock ! 

That He, who is so plenteous to forgive, 

May turn to you. And now, Eternal Judge ! 

What wait I for ? Look thou upon my heart, 

And see if love for those whom thou hast made, 480 

Led me from sweet delights of home, to bear 

Here in my age, when Nature seeks repose, 

Journeyings and watchings in the wilderness, 

Perils and dangers. Thou alone canst read 

The Missionary's motive, which the world 

Oft misinterprets. Lord, into thy liand 

Commend I thine own cause." 

Bowing he ceas'd. 
But Silence hsten'd : fond Expectancy 
Still linger'd mute, so soothing fell the balm 
On harrow'd bosoms. Thus the genial show'r 490 
And holy dew, refresh the sterile earth 
Parch'd by long drought, or by tornado stript 
Of her young verdure. O'er rough features mark'd 
By recent passions, stole the contrite tear, 
Strange, yet unheeded. Long the Chieftains held 



152 

Their solemn conclave, ere the question high 
Might be decided. 'Mid that awful pause, 
Fears, apprehensions, terrors, anxious hopes, 
Convuls'd the throng. The second hour had drawn 
Its tardy length, when from the council came 500 

Its hoariest Chieftain. On his head he bore 
The crown of Age, and leaning on his staff 

Utter'd the words of wisdom 

" That great God, 
Whom Christians call Jehovah, is more just^ 
Mighty, beneficent, worthy of praise, 
Than him your Fathers worshipp'd. So receive 
The Christian's God : and in his servant view 
Your guide to Heaven." 

Then, the adoring tribe. 
As a thick forest to some mighty wind 
Pays universal rev'rence, bow'd the head 510 

And worshipp'd God. Thus witness'd Carmel's mount 
Such solemn homage, when in ancient time 
Backsliding Israel saw the priests of Baal 
Humbled, and awful fires confirm the claim 
^f the majestic Prophet ; He who stood 
Lonely and fearless, to confront the wrath 
Of impious Jezebel's demoniac throng, 



153 

He, who on car of flame, like glowing star 

High o'er the empyrean rising, mark'd 

A glorious path, shunning the gloomy gates 520 

Of Death's dark confine. 

When that hoary Chief 
Had utter'd the decree, who may describe 
What fierce demoniac rage possest the Seer 
Of Alleghany ? His red eye-ball roll'd 
As if in torment, while thro' gnashing teeth 
He strove with madd'ning impotence to force 
The curse unutterable, and bounding high 
With brandish'd Tomahawk, as if he scorn'd 
The soil of such apostates, disappear'd 
Mid the deep forest shadows. 630 



154 



Joys not the Mariner 
When on the midnight of his trackless course 
Mid rocks and quicksands of a coast unknown 
The far-seen hght-house beams a star of hope 
Into his soul ? Upon the Mourner's tear, 
When Resignation sheds her holiest dew, 
Rises there not a trembling messenger 
Of Joy, because the passing storm hath wav'd 
Its wing in peace ? When to the humble Saint 
Whose pilgrimage was darkness, whose weak Faith 
Scarce saw a twilight which the hand of Fear 10 

Rob'd not in gloom, the vale of Death displays 

Eternal Glory's never-setting sun 

Is there not Joy ? Oh ! then exult for them. 
That abject race, who o'er the storms of life, 
The night of sorrow, and the hopeless tomb. 
Beheld Salvation's radiance. O'er the wild 
Where Paganism long triumph'd, rearing high 
His desolating ensign, the pure Cross 



155 

Extends its arms, and kneeling at its foot 

The Indian hymns his Maker. Sweet that tone 20 

Ascends from the lone forest, where conven'd 

Beneath their chapel's dedicated dome 

Oneida's natives pay their vows to God.* 

There they adore that Name, which from the dawn 

Of the Sun's brightness, to the farthest bound 

Of his remote declension, shall be great 

Among the Gentiles. There with raptur'd voice 

Ascribe high praises for the means of grace, 

And hope of glory. There, confess with shame 

That as the wandering sheep forsakes the fold, 30 

They all have stray'd ; and there His aid invoke 

Who the deep sighing of the contrite4i^art 

Despises not, nor scorns the humble tear 

Of Penitence. There supplicate their Lord 

By his deep agony, his bloody sweat, 

His cross and passion, by his precious death, 

Burial and resurrection, to behold 

And spare them in his mercy. There present 

To the baptismal font their tender babes ; 

And, kneeling round a Saviour's table, pay 40 

Homage to Him who in his boundless love 

Appointed such remembrance. When the rod 



156 

Of Sickness rests upon them, holy prayer,? 

From consecrated lips beseech of God 

To strengthen by his Spirit, the decay 

Of that which perisheth, and grant the soul 

Remission of its sins, ere it depart 

To be on earth no more. And, when the lamp 

Of frail mortality is quench'd, when man, 

Who like the fleeting shadow ne'er abides 50 

In one continued stay, when he who comes 

Forth as a flow 'ret to the blushing morn 

Ere the quick-hasting hour of eve, returns 

Ashes to ashes — o'er the mouldering wreck 

Hope lifts her banner, cloudless as the light. 

Bright with these characters of heavenly truth : 

The slumberer shall awake ; the unseal'd eye 

See its Redeemer ; and although the worm 

Destroy this body, yet the dust shall rise 

To Immortality. 60 

Hail, holy hearts ! 
Who, fill'd with pure benevolence, rejoice 
That the green olive decks the rugged brows 
Of the dark forest children, let that zeal 
Which prompts for them your charity, unite 
The useful arts of life with love divine, 



167 

Gifts for this world, with knowledge of the next. 
Take lessons from Creation ; from the skill 
Of the Eternal, who hath bound so strict 
Body with mind. Thou strong, mysterious chain ! 
Linking dull matter to the viewless, pure, 70 

And subtle spirit, dost thou not instruct 
Us in our bounty not to disunite 
Terrestrial and divine ? Those secret flames, 
Which guided Gideon's darkly hostile path, 
Were hid in earthen caskets : thus the soul 
Hath no unmix'd ascendancy, till death, 
Rending the veil of clay, bids her return 
To her creative essence. Wisdom's hand 
Hewetli out pillars, when she rearsThe house 
Whose dome is for the skies :* and thus a prop 80 

Might e'en sublime Christianity receive 
From her more earthly sisters ; from the arm 
Of simple agriculture, from the toil 
Of patient industry, from every art 
That sheds a charm on life. Behold the plan 
Of Wisdom heeded ; see a sacred band 
In our own days bear to the darken'd wild 
Those blended rays which cheer man's path below, 
Yet light it to the skies. 
14 



158 

Blest were the steps 
Of these propitious heralds o'er the valea 90 

Of wat'ry Tennessee, raptur'd their tone 
Proclaiming liberty to the sad souls 
Bound in the prison-house. Humbly they went, 
Like Him who pour'd the gospel's pardoning voice 
On publicans and sinners, mild forgave 
Guilt at whose sight the accusing Pharisee 
High rais'd the fatal stone, and shed that tear 
Which sanctions human grief, o'er the clos'd grave 
Of Bethany. Meek to their mission bow'd 
These teachers like their Lord ; yet not like Him, 100 
Who had not where to lay his head, were scorn'd. 
He came unto his own, bearing the seal 
Of mercy, but their sacrilegious hands 
Refus'd the gift, and madly crucified 
The Giver ; they with grateful joy were hail'd. 
By the sad stranger's moaning on the wild^ 
Like Rachel, weeping o'er her children lost, 
And shunning consolation's cup because 
Her babes were not. 

*' Oh ! have ye come to bring 
Mercy to us ! and will ye teach our sons 110 

To leave the hunter's fruitless toil, and love 



169 

The arts by which ye live? Will ye impart 
To them that knowledge which their wand'ring sires 
Benighted, found not? the assurance blest, 
That after death the spirit shall ascend 

To Him who gave it ? 

One there was, who breath'd 
The same kind promise to our wretched race, 
Great Washington our Father. Low he sleeps, 
And deep we mourn*d him ! But behold, we see 
One in his seat, who bends a Sire's regard 120 

On these unhappy tribes. Ye too, blest Mea-, 
Greet us as brethren, seeking to rebuild 
Our desolation." 

Thus Renatus spake,"* 
The Chief baptiz'd from Heav'n, whose eloquence 
Bath'd in the fountain of celestial dews. 
Henceforth is purified. His ardent heart 
Long'd that his blinded tribe might view the light, 
And joy'd to mark their offspring thronging come 
From the dark forest. Sad the outcasts seem'd, 
As if their hard and bitter lot had crush'd 130 

The sportiveness of childhood. But when Love 
Allur'd them to its shelter, gently bound 
Its circlet round them, show'd their wond'ring eyes 



160 

The excellence of order, and the pow'r 
Of varying knowledge, their excursive minds 
Travers'd the new expanse, while their chang'd brows 
Beam'd with exulting hopes. How would the heart 
Of mild Benevolence rejoice to view 
Those tawny children of the forest stand 
Like lambs before their teachers, pleas'd to gain 14© 
That knowledge, which to their benighted souls 
Seems like the glory of Creation's ray 
Bursting from Chaos. Ah ! methinks the bounds 
Of distance fleet! and bright, prevailing rays 
Reveal the scene. ^ A happy band I see, 
Bending Intently o'er the sacred page. 
With suddea comprehension, while glad tears 
-Unconscious start 5 or cheerful passing on 
From hours of study, to accustom'd sport, 
From sport to useful toil. The day declines, 150 

And gathering meekly at Devotion's call, 
The holy orison ascends to Him, 
The first, the last, vv'hose unrequited love 
Careth for all his works. Methinks I hear 
Their vesper hymn, in solemn melody 
Dying away. Almost thy fervent pray'r 
Bursts on my ear, blest Kingsbury !^ thou who^e zeal 



161 

Didst in the wilderness prepare the way 

For Heav'n's ambassadors. Thy student's cell 

Longmark'd thee, o'er this world-discarded theme 160 

Musing like David, when the holy flame 

Burnt in his heart, and from his harp-strings burst. 

Like the firm Patriarch, from his peaceful home. 

And fathers' sepulchres, divinely urg'd 

To wander, strong in faith, tho' trembling hope 

Pointed, she knew not whither, thou didst pilch 

Thy lonely tent ; may He whose promise cheer'd 

The Father of the Faithful, guide thy steps, 

And aid thy helpers, till their toil redeem 

From Superstition's mazes, countless heirs 170 

Of heaven's inheritance. - — 

Amid the group 
Of thy new gather'd family, is one, 
Whose humble aspect and mild eye reveal 
That in her heart the Spirit of God hath wrougii! 
A holy work. With gentlest hand she leads 
Those younger than herself, repeating oft, 
" How good, how merciful is He who took 
Us from our low estate." 

Patient she strives 
By prayers, and by instructions, to arouse 



162 

Reflection in the hearts of those she styles 180 

Her wretched people. Modest, tender, kind, 
Her words and actions ; every vain desire 
Is laid obedient at the feet of Christ. 
And now no more the gaiety she seeks 
Of proud apparel ; ornaments of gold 
She gladly barters for the plain attire 
Of meek and lowly spirits. Catharine, hail! 
Our sister in the faith I^ Can those who love 
The image of their Saviour, lightly prize 
His lineaments in thee ? 190* 

How beautiful 
Is undeiil'd Religion, mild enthron'd 
Upon the brow of youth. Its touch dispels 
All dissonance of feature, every shade 
Which darkens this dull clay, each narrow line 
Of cold division, and with Truth's clear beam 
Reveals the graces of the pure in heart, 
Who shall see God. 

And thou too, Warrior brave ! 
Undaunted Charles,^ who dar'dst the opposing flood 
Of the swift Coosa, 'mid the British fires, 
And guiding thence th' endanger'd barks preserv'dst 200 
The lives of many ; thou who didst obtain 



163 

The meed of valour, yet hast meekly learnt 

Now not to glory, save in the reproach 

And cross of Christ; we bless thee as the fruits 

E'en as the early harvest of the toil 

Of God's own servant, who in youthful prime. 

In the heart's flow'ry spring, from joys of home, 

From charms of love departing, sought the work 

Of an evangelist. Like the bold strain 

Of him whose lips the altar's flame had cleans'd, 210 

His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bent 

His solitary way,® bade the rude cliffs 

And trackless mountains bow their hoary heads. 

And the lone vales with rev'rent awe arise 

To meet their God. 

Oh ye, who raptur'd trace 
Historic annals through th' eclipsing cloud 
Of dark uncertainty, and hoary years. 
Behold what changes our portentous times 
Mark on this fleeting stage ! On awful wheeb 
Rolls the Redeemer's chariot o'er the earth, 220 

Making the Idols tremble. Ocean bears 
Upon his thousand waves^ the herald train 
Who rear Salvation's banner. To each clime, 
Sultry or savage, hastes the mighty Scroll 



164 

Of Inspiration. Serapli-harps resound 
With hallelujahs o'er the ceaseless flight 
Of souls, who borne by Penitence ascend 
Up to Heaven's gate. 

Ye, who from earliest dawn 
Of infant reason to this passing hour, 
Have heard the Gospel's invitation pour'd, 230 

Who view the rapid hand of Time unfold 
High Prophecy's dread annals, while the Sun 
Of truth, bright darting from each broken seal 
Dispels the mist where Infidel disguise 
Sought its cold covert. Oh ! embrace the hope 
Which cannot perish. Would ye know the worth 
Of our Religion, prove it in the hour 
Wh-en dire affliction, like some wrecking storm. 
Appals the soul. Say ! have ye seen the friend 
Whom the most sacred, most endearing ties 240 

Bound to your heart, a prey to stern disease ? 
And while you, watching o'er her pillow, strove 
'Gainst wan Despair, and agonizing pray'd 
That the brief remnant of her fragile life 
Not yet might vanish, has the hand of God 
Alter'd her countenance f Have ye beheld 
That cherish'd form in the dim shroud of Death, 



165 

Lock'cl ill his damp, cold cavern f Saw ye then 
The star of immortality arise 

From the drear shadows of that gloomy vale 250 

Which Nature enters shuddering, and pale Grief 
Dews with unceasing tear ? 

When ye have bent 
O'er her lone tomb, shrinking beneath the weight 
Of blasted Hope, while the resistless tide 
Of Sorrow, heighten'd by the mournful swell 
Of recollected joys, o'er the void soul 
Roird like a mighty deluge, mark'd ye not 
Inscrib'd above the ebon gate of Death, 
*' I am the resurrection and the life, 
Saith Jesus Christ?" Ah! when veTTave believ'd 260 
That the sepulchral keys should be consigned 
To that blest hand which once was deeply pierc'd 
Fpr man's offences, ye have meekly knelt 
Amid the ruins of your love, and sigh'd, 
Thy will be done. Still let that soften'd glow 
Pervade your spirit ; bid your life evince 
Your orthodoxy ; let your virtues be 
Devotion's daughters. Toil no more to hide 
Sectarian bitterness beneath the cloak 
Of righteous zeal ; your many-headed faith 270 



166 

Reduce to His simplicity, who merg'd 

In Love to the Supreme and Love to man, 

The prophets, and the law. Then shall ye find 

The grandeur of Omnipotence absorb 

The trifles of the hour ; as he who stands 

On Andes' crown, marking the Ocean mix 

His tides eternal with the bending skies, 

Notes not the obstacles, nor heeds the thorns 

That marr'd his path below. Then shall ye strike 

The lyre of praise to the Eternal God, 280 

Who needeth not th' Archangel's arm, yet deigns 

From the frail habitants of clay, to form 

Instruments for his work : then shall ye rise 

Clad in Messiah's armour to advance 

His hasting sceptre, or to pay your vows 

Before his throne. Oh ! aid that sacred cause 

Which saints espous'd, which holy martyrs seal'd 

With their hearts' blood, and bending from the skies 

Complacent view. Uphold it by your prayers, 

Your alms, your influence, for Jehovah's smile 290 

Shall crown the labour. 

Who will coldly say, 
That he is burden'd with the ceaseless claim 
And tax of charity — that her demands, 



167 

Taking each shape and form of countless thought, 

He cannot grant? Then let him stay his hand, 

Withhold his short compassion, hoard his gold. 

Hoard for his children, for his cherish'd lusts : 

But bid him heed that day, when it shah rise 

" To eat his flesh like fire :" yes ! heed the day 

Of righteous scrutiny. The work is God's; 300 

And still shall it proceed. He needeth not 

The aid of the reluctant. Countless hosts 

On earth, in air, and highest Heaven, rejoice 

To do his will. Full many a heart has rent 

The bonds close twisted with its central clasp 

In Life's delightful morn, by sacred home, 

Kindred, and parents' love. Yes ! tlifongs have bid 

Farewell without a tear, tho' the gay world 

Might call it martyrdom, yet have they gone 

To their returnless bourn, diffusing joy 310 

O'er desolation, and within their souls 

Hiding its sacred source. Full many a name 

Which Fashion flaunting in her gilded car 

Heeds not amid her pomp, is register'd 

In the Lamb's book of life. Ah ! some have borne 

Their message prosperously, and some have fall'n, 

Fall'n in their charity. The blooming flow'r 



168 

Has faded, and the withering matron stem 

Cast its pale blossom in Salvation's path, 

Strewing the steps of Sorrow. Thou hast fall'n, 320 

Thou mild Moravian Sister !^*^ Thou wert deck'd 

With what the giddy, unreflecting world 

Might call accomplishment, but thou didst own 

A pearl it could not purchase. Thou didst cleanse 

Thy knowledge in the fount of Jesus Christ, 

And pour it to the poor ; even as the hand 

Of the blest angel mov'd Siloam's pool 

To heal the impotent. And thou didst die 

E'en as thou liv'dst, unmurmuring, pure, serene. 

And ardent in thy faith. , 330 

Thou hast obtain'd 
Eternal gain, from sublunary loss. 
And tribulation ; for thy robes are white 
In the atoning blood. Say, shall we shed 
The tear for thee, blest Sister ! when thy lot 
Is better far than ours ? 

Soft glows the turf 
O'er the young Osage Orphan,^ ^ she w^hose chains 
Of sad captivity were gently riven 
By mild benevolence ; while He who pours 
Light on the blinded eye, redeem'd her heart 



169 

From Nature's slavery. Beams not her smile 340 

From some bright cloud, with grateful ray, on those 

Who o'er her transient tutelage difFus'd 

Instruction's early germ, affections mild, 

And hopes benign ? Ye blest, who still essay 

To offer incense 'mid those erring tribes, 

Lift high your censers, bright with holy flame, 

Be strong, and fear not. He, whose mighty voice 

Counsell'd the Prophet to prepare his way 

In the wild desert, and make strait his path 

Over the trackless mountains, He will come 350 

And bring the victory. Ye too, whose hands 

Might gird the soldiers, ye, whom Heav'n appoints 

As stewards of its bounty, will ye ai^ 

The sacred mission ? Will ye freely strew 

The seeds of wealth upon this troubled soil, 

And trust the God of harvest ? Prest with want, 

Blinded by ignorance, and in the maze 

Of brutal vice and superstition chain'd. 

The wM-etched natives stand. To you, their bands 

They raise, imploring. 360 

Tears of anguish stain 
Their haggard features. Timidly they lead 
Their untaught children, asking you to grant 

15 



170 

Pity and comfort. Those neglected minds, 

Long bound in dungeon gloom, yet bearing trace 

Of noblest workmanship, ye might illume 

With intellectual brightness, as the stone 

Of precious lustre, from the rubbish drawn, 

Dazzles the polisher. Ah I think how hard 

His lot, whom shades envelop, where fair Hope 

Unfolds no dewy petal, where the tree 370 

Of knowledge springs not, and where Genius buds 

To feel the frost and die. Amid our race, 

Too oft we sigh to mark the mighty force 

Of Genius misapplied, its daring search 

Unsanctified, and its refulgent flame 

Sparkling through dim, perverted tendencies, 

As through a misty halo. Genius soars 

Like the proud Eagle tow'rd the vertic Sun, 

But oft her drooping crest, and pinions soii'd, 

Betray the aberrations of a flight 380 

Which Heaven directs not. When her plumage drinks 

The fresh'ning dews of renovated love. 

When her purg'd eye, with steadfast beam beholds 

The Sun of Righteousness, when her heart feels 

His healing touch, who sanctifies what Earth 

Deems holy, how sublime doth she aspire 



171 

And hovering o'er the cliff of Zion's mount, 

Await the call to rise and make her nest 

Among the stars. Philosophy perceiv'd, 

E'en thro' the dimness of the earliest days, i>90 

The emptiness of life, and weakly blam'd 

This void existence. But Religion brought 

The promise of a new, and o'er the storm 

Rais'd her white banner. Then the day-star shone, 

Enlight'ning darkness, and the realm of Death, 

Guiding the mourners' step thro' thorns and gloom, 

To a strong refuge in the glorious hope 

Of immortality. 

Oh ! then impart 
To your blind brother, in his heathen woe, 
The surplus of your luxury ; and peace 400 

And joy shall blossom in his gloomy path, 
As Eden's roses 'neath the Angels* feet. 
Christians ! who list'ning, love the word divine, 
Who find it as a sun-beam in your path, 
And like a star of glory to your souls. 
Think of your brother, (for our God hath made 
All of one blood, who dwell upon the earth,) 
Think of your brother, in your very gates, 
Wand'ring, unsatisfied, benighted, sad. 



172 

Down to his grave, where no sweet spirit tells 410 

Of rest in Jesus, where no liallow'd voice 

Sooths him to mingle dust with dust, in hope 

Of a blest resurrection. Nature weeps 

O'er her fall'n son, in speechless agony, 

While the dark forms of horror and despair 

Mock at her bitterness. Would ye desire 

That peace and mercy there should wave their wings 

And midnight flee away ? Then lift your pray'r, 

Dispense your bibles, send your holy men 

To publish peace ; let the poor native taste 420 

The fruits that grow upon your tree of life, 

Hold to his parch'd and thirsty hps the cup 

Of your salvation, and as his warm tears 

Of gratitude and penitence burst forth. 

So shall your rapture swell at the last day 

When ye shall hear the glorious words, " Approach ! 

What ye have done to one of these, the least, 

The lowest in the scale of woe, was done 

To me, your Judge : and where the Master dwells, 

There shall the servant be." 430 

Ye too, who share 
The gentle sympathies of social life. 
As equals and companions, whose soft hands 



17S 

Press the first seal upon the waxen mind 

Of Infancy, who reign in the mild sphere 

Of sweet domestic pleasure, bearing still 

The birthright of each tender courtesy 

And hope refin'd, think of your humbled sex, 

'Mid those degraded tribes the lowest still, 

Bearers of burdens, tillers of the earth, 

Cut off from every joy reciprocal 449 

That sweetens life, and so opprest with woe 

As in despairing horror to destroy 

Their female offspring, lest they too should share 

Their servitude and misery — oh think, 

Think of these sisters! think of thatjjlest word,' 

That pure religion, which has rais'd your lot 

To what it is, and if warm Pity move 

The tear, the wish to rescue from despair 

But one sad suffering slave, if Love inspire 

To follow Him who went to seek the lost, 450 

Oh speak, and it is done. 

And ye, dear youth, 
O'er whose fair brows the light of knowledge plays 
In bright intelligence, whose opening minds 
Like some pure rose-bud crystalline with dew 
Are shelter'd in the gentle bow'r of Love, 
15* 



174 

Remember those who heard no cradle hymn 

Of peace and mercy, on whose infant hearts 

No mild instruction starap'd a holy trace, 

But ignorance and vile example left 

Their w^andering impression. While you learn 460 

The various arts to grace and comfort life. 

While in the circle of your friends you sit 

Around your teachers, while your hearts respond 

*'• Behold how pleasant, and how good it is 

Thus to be bound in unity;" oh think 

Of that untutored race, who bear no sound 

To rouse the mind from indolence, or save 

Its long perverted pow'rs, nor docile bend 

To that blest Education which prepares 

For duties, and for trials, and for wounds 470 

In life's uncertain warfare, for the joy 

That gilds its close, and for the victor's crown : 

Which from the mental garden wise removes 

Those roots of bitterness that choke the growth 

Of nobler plants, and by the timely change 

Of sun-beam and of dew, of transient frowns 

And gentleness, essays to imitate 

The discipline of Heav'n. And when you hear 

The rude storm beating o'er your peaceful home, 



175 

When round the social board, the cheerful fire, 480 

A happy band you draw, will you not think 

Amid your gratitude, of those who roam 

O'er the cold mountains, homeless and distrest. 

Meagre with famine, and but ill-conceal'd 

By tatters from the blast ? 

Mark o'er our land, 
How Childhood's bounty strives to meliorate 
Their sufferings ; how the bands of youth unite 
In beauteous circles, bound by wreaths of Love, 
O'er Generosity's rich robe to cast 
Their sparkling gems like stars, and tesselate 490 

Her golden pavement. Like the chosen race 
Thronging innumerous tow'rd the promis'd land, 
They urge their lingering kindred, " Haste with us, 
And we will do thee good ;"^2 for he who form'd 
Our souls, linking their duties with their joys. 
Shows, that in blessing others, is our bhss. 
Let Industry, let Self-denial pour 
Their limpid rills to swell the sacred tide 
Of wide Benevolence, and find their gifts 
Enrich themselves. Retrench some glittering toy, 500 
Some tinsel trapping, some luxurious taste. 
And lay the silent trophy at the shrine 



176 

Of that pure Charity which " vaunteth not, 

Nor boasteth of her deeds." Perchance your ear 

From Brainerd's cultur'd bound, from EHot's shades, 

From wild Tallony's unfrequented dales, 

From Dwight (dear, hallow'd name!) may catch the tone 

Of gratitude to Christians, for some boon 

Which you have toil'd to aid. E'en on the shore 

Of fair Ceylon, or the far Sandwich isles, 610 

Round whose green coast the vast Pacific roars. 

Mid Gambia's injured natives, or the vales 

Of murmuring Senegal, some grateful child 

May muse and ponder o'er that holy book 

Which you have giv'n. Perchance, on Ganges' banks 

Some infant, rescu'd from the whelming tide 

Or from its father's knife, may kneeling pour 

Praise to Jehovah. Oh ! to snatch one mind 

From ruin's wreck, one soul from deadly vice. 

Is it not better than to flaunt in pride 526 

Of wealth, a few short years, then fade unmourn'd, 

As an unodorous flow'r? When like the gale 

Thrilling the harp of Eol, rushing thoughts 

Controul your spirit, moving it to give 

Freely as ye receive, remember them 

For whom my lay entreats. And when you muse 



177 

At parting day, or when the heavier shades 
Announce soft slumber, and attune the soul 
To meek Devotion, bear them on your prayers. 

Ye too, who hang over your cradled sons, 530 

With silent rapture. Parents ! Avho survey 

The daily change of those unfolding minds. 

And snowy brows, who sometimes pensive muse 

On the bold tempters, and dark snares that throng 

Their untried journey, view the mighty tide 

Of population, ever rolling west. 

And meditate, perchance, a few short years 

That raise these young shoots into sapplings tall, 

May plant them on our frontiers. Think once more ; 

The Indians are their neighbours, de'eply stung 540 

With sense of wrong, and terrible in wrath. 

What shall restrain their hatchets ? Who shall quell 

Their midnight conflagration? Who preserve 

Those polish'd temples from the glaring knife 

Temper'd in blood ? What helmet shield their heads 

From the keen Tomahawk ? Oh ! make these foes 

Your friends, your brethren, give them the mild arts 

Social and civiliz'd, sendjlhem that Book 

Which teaches to forgive, implant the faith 

That turns the raging vuhure to the dove, 550 



178 

And with these deathless bonds secure the peace 
And welfare of your babes. 

Oh thou, whose hand 
Temperate and just, doth guide our helm of state 
On its majestic course, steering so wise 
'Tween Scylla and Charybdis, that their wrath 
Forgets to vex the long-resounding deep, 
Shunning those quicksands where Ambition wrecks, 
And from the vortex where wild Rashness whirls 
In fatal revolution, bearing safe 

The burden of an Empire's vast concerns, 660 

Ruler of Freedom's favour'd clime, where beam 
Bright emanations on each gazing eye 
From the fair dome of Knowledge, like the flame 
Whose spiry column pointed Israel's path, 
Son of that State, whose matron arm embrac'd 
Great Washington, and mark'd with glowing pride 
The scroll of glory brighten with the names 
Of her illustrious offspring — thou, whose heart 
Gathering the groans of our rejected tribes. 
Compassionate devis'd their good,** and led 570 

Thro' gushing tears their filial glance to thee, 
Oh ! still uphold their weakness, still extend 
O'er the drear desert of their wretchedness, 



The banner of thy wisdom, till their minds, 

Freed from debasing fetters, twine the arts 

Of civilization, with the hopes sublime 

Of pure Christianity : so shall the voice 

Of just posterity exalt thy fame 

Above the blood-stain'd hero, and enshrine 

Thine image in the consecrated dome 560 

Of blest Philanthropy. 

My Country ! Rouse 
From thy deep trance ! Divide the long-drawn veil 
Of thy lethargic slumbers, and perceive 
Britannia's bright example ; she who said 
To Africa, " Be free." Awake, and hear 
From Heaven's high arch the awful question break, 
*' Where is thy brother ?" - Wilt thou turn away. 
Answering, " I know not!" with concealment vain, 
Or arrogantly asking, " Why should 1 
Be made my brother's keeper ?" 590 

View the day 
Of retribution ! Think how thou wilt bear 
From thy Redeemer's lips the fearful words, 
" Thy brother, perishing within thy gates. 
Thou saw'st. Thy brother hunger'd, was athirst, 
Was naked, and thou saw'st it. He was sick, 



180 

And thou withheld'st the heahng : was in prisoa, 
To Vice and Ignorance, nor did'st thou send 
To set him free." Oh ! ere that hour of doom 
Whence there is no reprieve, my Country, wake 
From thy dark dream ! 600 

Blot from th' accusing scroll 
Those guilty traces, with repentant tears : 
Teach thy red brother in the day of wrath 
To stand before the Judge, and plead, " Forgive! 
Forgive ! For he hath sent thine holy word, 
Hath told me of a Saviour, and difFus'd 
The day-beam o'er my darkness. His kind voice 
Taught me to call thee Father. Oh ! forgive 
Those earthly wrongs which he hath well aton'd 
By pointing me to Heaven." 

The time of Hope, 
And of probation, speeds on rapid wing, 610 

Swift and returnless. What thou hast to do. 
Do with thy might. Haste ! lift aloud thy voice, 
And publish on the borders of the pit, 
The resurrection. Bid thy heralds bear 
To thy own wilds. Salvation. Strike the harp 
Of God's high praises mid thy deserts lone, 
And let thy mountains speak them. Lo ! they rise 



181 

Wafled on every gale. Fr(3m Afric's sands, 

From chill Siberia, from the restless wave 

Of turbid Ganges, from the spicy groves, 620 

And from the sea-gieen islands. Rise ! and spread 

That name which must be borne from sea to sea, 

And from the river to the utmost bounds 

Of the wide world. Then, when the ransomM come 

With gladness unto Zion, thou shah joy 

To hear the vallies and the hills break forth 

Before them into singing ; thou shalt join 

The raptur'd strain, exulting that the Lord 

Jehovah, God Omnipotent, doth reign 

0*er all the Earth. - r,.30 

16 



NOTES 



TO 



^AmW'® 3«l^g^, 



j\^oie 1. — Line 7. 

^* To where Magellan lifts his torch to light 

The meeting of the waters." 
The island of Terra del Fuego, having receivfid^its name of " Land of 
Fire," from the number of volcanoes which diversify its desolate region, 
may well be represented under the metaphor of Torch-bearer to the 
Oceans, as they rush to mingle their waves. 

j\oie 2. — Line 73. 

" Of brother, or of son, untimely slain 

In the dread battle." 
The custom which prevails among the aboriginal Americans, of adopt- 
ing a captive foe in the place of some near relative, who has fallen in 
battle, is well known. The aSeetion tims transferred, is said to be sin- 
cere and ardent, and extinguished only with life. They have been styled 
the most revengeful, the most implacable of savage nations. Yet this 
practice, peculiar to themselves, seems rather to prove, that the habits 
arising from natural affection are stronger than the suggestions of revenge. 
Among civilized nations, in every age, the adoption of children has pre- 
vailed ; but it has been circumscribed cither by the limits of affinity, the 
predilection of friendship, or the excitement of compassion. Wlien was 
it known to be extended to mortal foes, even by Christians, who are 
bound to requite enmity with love ? AVhere, among the followers of 



184 

Him, with whose death-pang was mingled a prayer for his murderers, has 
the shelter of paternal kindness been the portion of the enemy, whose 
sword had drank the blood of the lost son ? or the offices of fraternal 
affection been extended to him who had pierced the breast of the lamented 
brother ? Among the ancient EgAjptians, Assyrians, and Grecians, 
adoption by those who were childless, was a frequent usage. The Ro- 
mans enacted laws for its regulation. The Lacedemonians required that 
it should be performed in the presence of their kings. The Turk, accord- 
ing to the appointed ceremonies of Mahomet, invests the adopted with his 
inner garment, or with his girdle ; and the Gentoo offers sacrifices to his 
gods. But the native American being in this respect " without law, is a 
law unto himself ;" he adopts the foe who would have shed his blood, 
without the pomp of prescribed ceremony, and with no sacrifice but that 
which aflTection exacts of vengeance. In other instances, we behold this 
race capable of degrees of Aartue, as unexpected as they are unparalleled. 
The natives of Hascala, a populous province, bordering upon Mexico, shock- 
ed at the cruellies which marked the intrusion of the Spaniards, attacked 
ibem with impetuous bravery and with vast superiority of numbers. But the 
advantages arising from these circumstances, were entirely lost through their 
solicitude to save the wounded and dying. To relieve the sufferers, and re- 
move them from further barbarity, divided the attention of the warrior even 
in the heat of battle; and a scene unknown among civilized nations was dis- 
played, a sentiment of tenderness extinguishing victory. Afterwards, the 
Hascalans, meditating another attack, generously apprized the invaders 
of their hostile intentions, and knowing that a scarcity of provisions ex- 
isted among them, sent to their camp a large supply of poultry and maize ; 
'* Eat plentifully," said they, " for we scorn to attack enemies enfeebled 
by hunger, and should blush to offer to our gods, famished and emaciated 
\actims." Yet these sons of nature had never heard the command, " If 
thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink," 

Xoie S.—Line 101. 

" Some with blood 

Of human sacrifices, sought to appease" &c. 
Although the Mexicans were further advanced in refinement than any 
of the aborigines of America, they were the slaves of a superstition which 
was marked by the most barbarous sacrifices. At their first arrival near 



1C5 

the Lake of Tetzuco, from their ancient possessions, on the borders of the 
Californian Gulf, they erected on the spot which they had selected for 
their principal city, a temple to their tutelar god, which they consecrated 
by the effusion of human blood. This event, according to their traditions, 
and tlie simple annals preserved by their hierogU-phical paintings, occurred 
in the year 1335 of the Christian era. Following them through the va- 
riations of their government, from its original form of aristocracy', to that 
of elective monarchy, and ultimate despotism, combined with the feudal 
spirit, we see the same stern religion preserving its sway unaltered, and 
mingling with their civil institutions. Their political festivals were at- 
tended with the sacrifice of human beings, and in their expiatory offerings 
to their deities, they believed that " without shedding of blood was no re- 
mission." During the reigns of Tizoc, and his brother Ahuitzotl, a 
temple was erected, which surpassed in magnificence all the structures of 
Mexico, and at its completion in 1486, it was consecrated with the blood 
of more than 60,000 prisoners. IMontezuma II. who was the ninth 
Mexican sovereign, entered into a war with some neighbouring tribes, in 
order to obtain victims for sacrifice at his coronation, and the cruel pa- 
geantry of that scene was in accordance with-the inclinations of his sub, 
jects. The funeral rites of the Mexicans were sanguinary, particularly 
at the death of .iny distinguished personage. At the decease of an cni- 
perour, they slew a number of his principal attendants, and buried tlieni in 
the same tomb ; supposing, like tlie ancient Scythians, that he would 
-have need of their assistance and counsel. The rites of their religion 
were reduced to a regular system j but their divinities were clothed in 
vengeance, and their priests perpetuated a worship of gloom and terrour. 

JS^ote 4. — Line lOG. 

'* Some with fruits 

Sioeet Jloioers, and incense of their choicest herbs 

Sought to propitiate Him'' &c. 
The mild Peruvians who, af the time of the invasion of the Spaniards, 
had made many attainments in the arts of civilization, had a form of re- 
ligion whose features were remarkably free from harshness and barbaritv. 
'* The most singular and striking circumstance in their government," 
says Dr. Robertson, " was the influence of religion upon its genius and 
laws. The whole system of their civil policy was founded upon religion. 



186 

The Inca appeared not only as a legislator, but a messenger from 
Heaven. The superstitions on which he engrafted his pretensions to 
high authority, were of a very different character from those established 
among the Mexicans. By directing their veneration to that glorious lu- 
minary which by its universal and vivif\nng energy is the best emblem of 
divine beneficence, the rites and observances which they deemed accepta- 
ble to Him were innocent and humane. They offered to the Sun a part 
oi' the productions which his genial warmth had called forth from the 
bosom of the earth, and fostered to maturity. They sacrificed, as an 
oblation of gratitude, some of the animals who were indebted to his influ- 
ence for nourishment. They presented to him choice specimens of those 
works of ingenuity, which his light had guided the hand of man in form- 
ing : but the Incas never stained his altars with human blood, nor con- 
ceived that their beneficent father, the Sun, would be delighted with such 
\ictims. Accordingly, the Peruvians, unacquainted with those barbarous 
rites, which extinguish sensibility, and suppress the feelings of nature at 
human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the superstition they had 
adopted, to a national character more gentle than that of any people in 
America." The tribe of Chacnieheca's who succeeded the ancient Tolte- 
can monarchy, which was situated in the neighbourhood of Mexico, also 
paid homage to the Sun, as their tutelar divinity, and offered to him the 
herbs and flowers which the}-^ found springing in the field. The Parent 
of warmth and vegetation appeared to their untaught minds, as the Foun- 
tain of existence and of hope ; and how much m.ore elevated was the 
choice of their Paganism, than that of the polished Egyptians, who, in 
their absurd worship of vegetables, noxious reptiles, and the lifeless for- 
mations of Nature, v.-learly evinced, that the " world by wisdom knew not 
God." 

A^Gte F,.-~Ltne 109. 

" Some, tvith mi/sdc rites, 
The ark, the orison, the paschal feast, ^^ &c. 
Such a marked diversity of customs, and religious rites, is found 
among the aborigines of America, that they must be considered as the 
mingled offspring of different nations, who in various ages have become 
inhabitants of this western hemisphere. The Peruvians, in their ancient 
offerings, like a sect of the Persians, recognized the Sun as the Parent of 



lo i 

their joys, and the supreme object of their adoration* Some of the eastern 
tribes of South America preserve a tradition that their ancestors migrated 
froiT. the African continent. Tiie Toltecas, originally bordering upon 
iNIexico, and celebrated for their superiour knowledge, which comprised 
some branches of agriculture, together with the art of cutting gems, and 
casting gold and silver into various forms, possessed some ancient paint- 
ings, which represented the passage of tlieir ancestors through Asia, and 
the north-western countries of America. The Mexicans who, in the 
barbarity of their religious sacrifices, point to the blood-stained altars of 
Carthage, in the style of their architecture, the construction of pyramidal 
edifices, the use of hieroglyphicks, and tiie mode of computing time, lead 
us back to the institutions of ancient Egypt. This similarity has so for- 
cibly impressed the minds of some learned writers, particularly Siguenza, 
and Bishop Huet, that they have designated the Mexicans as the descend- 
ants of Naphtaliim, the son of Mizraim, and nephew of Ham. The Es- 
quimaux recognizes his sires in the north of Europe, and by a variety of 
cuslotns proves his affinity. The Mohawks, from the peculiarity of their 
language, composetl entirely without labials, so that they never close their 
lips in speaking, and from the superiority which they assumed over the 
surrounding tribes, seem also to claim a distinct origin. The Abbe Cla- 
vigero supposes that the ancestors of those nations who peopled the coun- 
try of Anahuac, passed from the northeastern parts of Asia to the western 
extremity of America. Amid the variety of customs which distinguish 
the different tribes, some have been observed so similar to those of ancient 
Israel, that they have given rise to conjecture, that some of the ten tribes, 
who, after the Assyrian invasion in 721, (B.C.) were long in a wandering 
state, might have been allured to pass, with other emigrants, the narrow strait 
which separates the Old from the New World. This opinion received 
strength from the circumstance, that among some of the natives, the name 
of tlieir Supreme Being was " Tehewah," evidently resembling the He- 
brew Jeliovah, that the word " Hallelujah," occurred in their songs of 
praise, that they bear upon their shoulders to battle a consecrated Ark, 
which is never suffered to touch the earth, and the mysteries of whose in- 
terior they guard with the most jealous care. Traditions of the murder 
in Eden, of original longevity, the general deluge, the saving of the 
righteous pair, the bird sent from the ark, who returned with a verdant 



188 

branck, the confusion of tongues, the anger of the Great Spirit at the 
building of a high place, which the pride of man contemplated should 
reach the heavens, and many more, evidently derived from the Scriptures, 
are preserved among them. Some of the early settlers, who had an oppor- 
tunity of observing their character before its debasement, traced in their 
religious offerings and festivals a similarity to the Jewish ritual. Intelli- 
gent men, who have resided among them as traders, or surveyed them as 
travellers and missionaries, have occasionally gathered traits of resemblance 
to the peculiar people ; and some learned men have been inclined to credit 
this hypothesis, by a eomparison of their language with the ancient He- 
brew. " Dr. Buchanan," says a judicious writer, " supposes the ten 
tribes of Israel, to be now in the country of their first captivity ; but this 
by no means precludes the possibility of individuals having migrated north- 
ward and eastward to the American continent. He speaks of the xvhite 
and the black Jews of Asia : we know that there are also ivhite Jews in 
Europe, and black Jews in Africa ; and why, since they are Uie scattered, 
the distinguished people, may there not be red Jews in America ?" 

J^ote (5.— Line 121. 

" The crystal tube 

Of calm inquiry, to thy patient eye. 

Meek Boudinot ! reveaVd an unknown star 

Upon this luestern cloud." 
Tbis refers to the " Star in the West," a work which attempts to 
prove the descent of some of our aborigines, from the dispersed Israelites ; 
written by the late Hon. Judge Boudinot, the venerable Sire and Patron 
of the American Bible Society. He asserts, that if the descendants of 
exiled Israel could now be identified, on any spot of the globe, we should 
not find, after the revoKition of twenty-five centuries, the traces of similarity 
more striking ; and that, admitting the affinity of our ro\ang tribes wth 
the peculiar people, it would be impossible not to be surprised at perceiv- 
ing so many rites and traditions unimpaired, when to the lapse of ages is 
added the absence of a written language, of a temple, of a regular govern- 
ment, even of a permanent abode, and the vice, degradation, and misery, 
-which, since their subjugation by the Europeans, has involved them in a 
darkness like midnight. He is strengthened in his theory by a passage 
frcnaa the Apocrypha, ^here Esdras " in his vision beheld the ten tribes 



189 

who were carried captive by Shalmanezer, in the time of Hosca their king, 
taking counsel to leave the multitude, and go into a country where man- 
kind never dwelt, that they might keep the statutes which they never 
kept in their own land, and remain there until the latter times." — 2 Es- 
dras, xiii. 40. 

The Rev. Dr. Jarvis, in his interesting " Discourse on the Religion 
of the Indian Tribes," supposes them to be the descendants of Noah, who 
migrated to this continent, after the great dispersion of mankind. This 
theory, which accounts for many of the traditions preserved among them, 
is also adopted by Mr. Faber, so well known by his learned dissertations 
<»n the Prophecies. 

JSfote 7.— Line 172. 

" Their iveak, exhausted hands they prest 
On their wan lips, and in the lowly dust 
Laid them despairing." 
Missionaries and traders have occasionally observed among the different 
tribes, the custom of pressing the hand upon the lips, and laying the 
mouth in the dust, in cases of deep bereavements Some have supposed 
it the dictate of Nature in the humiliation of suffering. Others have 
traced in it a resemblance to the expression of grief in ancient Israel ; and 
have been reminded of the passages in Job, Solomon, and Jeremiah : 
" Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand on your mouth :" 
" Behold, I am vile ! what shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand 
upon my mouth :" " If thou hast done foolishly, in lifting up thyself, or 
if thou hast thought evil, lay thy hand upon thy mouth." " He putteth 
his mouth in the dust, if so be, there may be hope." 

JSfote S.—Line 186. 

" To the poor Greerdander reveaVd the dance 

Of hapj)y spirits." 
The imagination of the inhabitants of Greenland traces in the Aurora 
Borealis, the dance of sportive souls. Tliey suppose the place of torment 
for the wicked to be in the subterranean regions, where darkness and ter- 
rour reign, without hope. They believe in two Great Spirits, the good 
and the evil, and in various subordinate grades of ethereal beings, resem- 
bling the major and minor gods of the ancient heathens. When a friend 
is in the conflict of death, they array him in his best apparel, and when 



190 



the last change has marked his countenance, bewail his loss, and prepare 
for his interment. They deposit in his grave instruments of labour, and 
darts for defence, and returning to the house of mourning, the men sit 
silent with uncovered faces, while the females prostrate themselves on the 
earth. Tlie nearest relative pronounces an eulogy on the virtues of the 
departed, and at every pause their grief becomes more audible. The 
ceremonies of mourning are continued at intervals for months, and some- 
times for a year ; though its bitterness diminishes after the period which 
they allot for the perilous journey to the eternal regions. They believe 
that the spirits of the departed are occasionally permitted to revisit the 
earth, and reveal themselves to the former objects of their attachment. 
Some of the first missionaries who visited this people, supposed that the 
idea of a Divine Being was in some degree familiar to their minds, since 
they so readily received the knowledge of his attributes, and the most 
stupid among them were struck with horror at the thought of the annihila- 
tion of the soul. 

JVote 9.— Line 208. 

** Thus, the warlike Earl 
Stem Seward, in his armour braced, erect. 
Met grisly Death.'* 
Seward, Earl of Northumberland, feeling in his last sickness, that dis- 
solution approached, quitted his bed, and encircled himself with his armour. 
To the inquiries of his attendants, he answered, " It becometh not a 
brave man to die like a beast." Standing, and with an undaunted coun- 
tenance, he met death, closing his life of intrepidity, by an act equally 
singular and heroic. 

Note 10.— Line 214. 

" Others toward the East 
With faces tuni'd, repose." 
The natives of Patagonia bury their dead on the eastern shores, and 
with their faces turned toward the rising Sun, where they say was the 
country of their ancestors. Bougainville, and others, have suggested 
their resemblance to the roving Tartars. Like them they traverse im- 
mense plains, constantly on horseback, clothing themselves \vith the skins 
of wild beasts, which they destroy in the chase, and occasionally pillaging 
travellers, who cross their path, or interrupt their career. 



191 

Koie W—Line 219. 

•* Weed nor thorn. 

Might choke the young turf springing^ 
♦* Among some of our aborigines, the graves of departed friends are 
guarded with the most delicate and jealous affection. They suffer no 
tveeds to take root upon them, and frequently visit them with lamenta- 
tions. This tender and sacred sentiment is expressed in an effusion of 
simple eloquence, which bears the antiquity of nearly 200 years. In one 
of the earliest records of the settlement of Massachusetts, it is mentioned 
that the Indian monuments of the dead had been defaced by the whites at 
Passonagessit, and the grave of the Sachem's Mother plundered of some 
skins that had decorated it. Gathering together his people, in the first 
moments of his grief and indignation, he thus addressed them : " When 
last the glorious light of this sk)'^ was underneath the globe, when the 
birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take my repose. 
But ere my eyes were fast closed, I saw a vision at which my soul was 
troubled. As I trembled at the fearful sight, a spirit uttered its voice :— 
* Behold ! my Son, whom I have cherished. See tlie hands that covered, 
and fed thee oft. Wilt thou forget to take revenge of those wild people, 
who have disturbed my ashes, disdaining our sacred customs ? See now ! 
the Sachem's grave lies, like one of the common people's, defiled by an 
Ignoble race. Thy Mother doth complain. She implores thine aid 
against this thievish people, newly intruding themselves into our land. If 
this be suffered, can I rest quietly in my everlasting Iiabitations V Then 
the Spirit vanished, and I, trembling, and scarce able to speak, began to 
get some strength, and recollect my thoughts that had fled, determining 
to ask your counsel and assistance." 

JVote [2.— Line 224. 

" Thus the Scythkin tribes 

Wandering icithout a City, calVd to guard 

j\'or donie, nor tempte, took their dauntless stand 

Upon their fathers' sejndchres," &c. 

Rollin, in his interesting history of the expedition of Darius against 

the Scythians, relates the embarrassment which he suffered in being unable 

to bring tl.at roving people to a regular engagement. " Prince of the 

Scythians," said he, " why do you continually fly before me ?" " If I fly 



192 

before thee, Prince of Persia," he replied, " it is not because I fear thee. 
We, Sc\'thians, have neither cities or lands to defend .- yet come ! attack 
the tombs of our fathers, and thou shalt find what manner of men we are." 
Soon after, they exemplified another singular trait of character, by send- 
ing a herald to Darius, \vdth a present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five 
arrows. The monarch exclaimed with joy, " Now they acknowledge 
subjection, and by these emblems yield to me the dominion of their lands 
and waters, of their warriors, and even of the atmosphere they breathe." 
But Gobryas, one of his oflScers, who was better versed in the hiero- 
glyphics of Scythia, correctly interpreted this typical message :— •" Unless 
the Persians can ascend into the air like birds, conceal themselves in earth 
like mice, or beneath the waters like frogs, it is not possible for them to 
escape the Scythian arrows." 

J\^ote IS.— Line 257. 

*' Eriche steered 

From that lone isle which Nature* s j)oising hand 

Cast ^tween the Continents." 
It is generally admitted that the northern parts of America were settled 
by the Scandinavians, several centuries before the expedition of Columbus. 
Ericke Raude, so named on account of his red hair, is considered as the 
original discoverer of those inhospitable regions. Having past a winter 
on the coast of Greenland, he returned to Iceland, and persuaded many 
of his countrymen to accompany him, and undertake the estabhshment of 
a colony. He assured them that the country which he had found, abound- 
ed in fish, and exhibited such a verdant appearance, that he had assigned 
it the name of Greenland, or Greenland. Twenty-five ships, filled with 
Icelanders and Norwegians, attended him in consequence of these repre- 
sentations ; but it is said that only fourteen sustained the inclemencies of 
the voyage. Tlie establishment of this colony bears date, according to 
Torfaeus, in his " Groenlandia Antiqua," in the year 982 ; yet it would 
seem to have been of earlier origin, by the bull of Pope Gregory 4th, 
issued in 835, and committing the conversion of the Greenlanders and 
Icelanders, to the first northern apostle, Ansgarius. This colony as- 
sumed the appearance of prosperity, and in 1261, voluntarily submitted 
to the sceptre of Norway, and was governed by a Norwegian viceroy, 
according to the laws of Iceland. It was considerably harassed by the 



193 



natives, who were denominated " Skrallings," and whose origin is traced 
to the Nortli East regions of Tartary. Driven from their country by 
imperious and potent enemies, they crossed the straits of Bherring, and 
gradually passing to the east and north, began their hostilities against the 
Icelandic colony in the eleventh century. They gained great ascendancy 
over it about the year 1350, when it had been enfeebled by the ravages 
of pestilence ; and in the course of two or three centuries nearly exter- 
minated it. The small remnant of European settlers were driven from 
the western toward the eastern shores, and compelled to incorporate them- 
selves with their conquerors. Some of them, however, retreated to the 
inlets between the mountains, and like the Welch still preserve the cha- 
racter of an unconquered people. 

Note 14. — Line 279. 

" Sai/f Daru'in / Fancy's son" — 
Dr. Darwin's plan of navigating southward those tremendous masses 
of ice, which for ages have been accumulating amid the polar regions, in 
order to allay the fervour of the tropics, is one of the many visionary the- 
ories of that splendid poet and eccentric philosopher. 

JVote \d.—Line 289. 

" Shmning the brvfdome 

Which Russia s empress-queen bade the chill boor 

Quench life's frail lamp to rear." 
^ The Ice Palace, erected in the year 1740, by the Empress Anne, of 
Russia, was 52 feet in length, and when lighted exhibited the most splen- 
did appearance. Yet to a reflecting mind, its brilliance must have been 
dimmed by the recollection, that many lives were sacrificed to its construc- 
tion, by the severity of cold. The description of this singularly beautiful 
structure, by the poet Cowper, is in accordance with that purity and elegant 
simplicity, which characrerize his numbers. 

*' Silently, as a dre3jn the fabric rose ; 

No sound of hammer, or of saw was there : 

Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts 

Were soon conjoin'd ; nor other cement ask'd 

Than water interfus'd, to make them one. 

Lamps gracefully dispos'd, and of all hues 

niumin'd ever)- side ; a watery liirht 

17 



194 

Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that seem'd 
Another moon new ris'n, or meteor fall'n 
From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene. 
So stood the brittle prodig}', though smooth 
And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound. 
Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within 
That royal residence might well befit. 
For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths 
Of flowers that fear'd no enemy but warmth, 
Blush'd on the pannels. 

Mirror needed none, 
Where all was vitreous ; but in order due., 
Convivial table, and commodious seat, 
(What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there ; 
Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. 
The same lubricity was found in all, 
And all was moist to the warm touch : a scene 
Of evanescent glory, once a stream. 
And soon to slide into a stream again." 

Xote lid. ^ Line 315. 

" To their hn?nble cells 
Came holy meuy by jjmis Olaf^s zeal 
Wing'd on their mission.^* 
Olaf, or Olaus, a Norwegian king, having renounced heathenism, sent 
a priest to Greenland, early in the tenth century for the conversion of the 
inhabitants. His exertions wer« successful, and the whole colony em- 
braced Christianity. In the year 1122, they chose a Norwegian bishop, 
and a regular succession in the Episcopacy was preserved, until the year 
1406, when the last of seventeen bishops was sent over. Darkness for 
a time overspread the religious prospects of tliis people ; like that which 
enveloped ancient Israel, when the harp of prophecy was broken in the 
hand of Malachi, and for more than three centuries there was no divine 
communication. But in the year 1721, a pious clergyman of Norway, 
by the name of Hans Egede, whpse lieart had long been moved by the 
wretchedness of the Greenlanders, resolved, notwithstanding the obstruc- 
tions that were cast in the way of his enterprize, to bear to that inhospita- 



195 



ble region the glad tidings of salvation. He was acpompanird by about 
forty adventurers, who aided him in imparting a knowledge of tliose arts 
which advance the comfort of the present life ; while, with the most con- 
descending attention, the most faithful diligence, and under the pressure 
of almost unexampled hardships, he taught the precepts of a religion, 
whose benevolenee he exemplified. After sustaining the arduous duties 
of a missionary almost forty years, he closed his honouiable and pious 
life, at the age of seventy-three, and to him, and to his son, Paul Egede, 
we are intlebted for an ample and authentic account of modern Greenland. 
The Moravians also, whose zeal in diffusing the blessings cf religion, can- 
not be too highly appreciated, extended the exertions of their Christian 
love to this desolate region. Perhaps it is without parallel in the annals 
of benevolence, that a Society so restricted in pecuniary resources, so 
afflicted by persecution as to have been reduced to about six hundred indi- 
viduals, should display the missionary spirit in such unbroken strength 
and splendour. After the oppressions of the Church of Rome, when they 
had taken refuge on the estates of Count Zinzendorf in Lusatia, they 
j>ent, in the space of nine years, missionaries to Greenland, to South-Ame- 
rica, to Algiers, to Guinea, to Lapland, to the-West-Indian and Nicobar 
islands, to Ceylon, to the extremities of the Cape of Good Hope, and to 
the wilds of Tartary. About. the year 1733, when the mission of IVIr. 
Egede was so coldly patronized by government, and so overclouded by 
misfortune, that it seemed ready to expire, the Moravians hanng resolved 
to carry the gospel to Greenland, two of their venerable messengers ar- 
rived on foot at Copenhagen, entreating permission to accomplish their 
design. " How," said one of the ministers of the crown of Denmark, 
" do you hope to maintain yourselves in that desolate region ?" " By 
the labour of our hands," they answered, " and by the blesaing of God. 
Wt' will build a house, and cultivate a piece of land, that we may not be 
burdensome to any." The nobleman, perceiving that they were not fully 
acquainted with the sterility oCthe countrv', replied, " Tliere is no timber 
there to build with." " Then," said these devoted servanti of the cross, 
** we will dig a cavern in the earth, and lodge there." These faithful 
missionaries with others who from time to time were sent to their assis- 
tance, suffered indescribably from the rigours of the climate, ar;d the 
ravages of famine and pestilence. Yet nothing extinguishc-d tlie f^aine of 



196 

their benevolence, and they expressed themselves willing to prolong then- 
labours until death, to continue " to believe while there was nothing to 
be seen, to hope when nothing was to be expected." Soon after their 
arrival, the Small-Pox was communicated by a Greenlander who had re- 
turned from Europe, and it assumed so malignant a form, that few who 
were seized by it, survived beyond the third day. Destitute of the know- 
ledge of medicine, and of the comforts which alleviate disease, the wretch- 
ed natives stabbed themselves, or plunged into the sea, to put a period to 
their sufferings. The Moravians, in company with Mr. Egede, hastened 
from place to place, to impart assistance or consolation. Empty houses, 
and unburied corpses, bleaching on the snow, everj' where shocked their 
eyes. On one island, only one little girl, and her three brothers, survived. 
Their father had buried all the inhabitants, and finding himself and his 
youngest child smitten with the malady, lay down in a grave, with the 
sick infant in his arms, commanding his daughter to cover them with 
skins and stones, that their bodies might not be devoured by ravens and 
foxes. In 1753, the severity of that terrific climate was heightened to 
an unusual degree, and snow fell in every month of the year. In March, 
the cold was so intense, that even glass and stones burst. Famine was 
the consequence, and continued till 1757, when it surpassed all that had 
ever been imagined by the Europeans. " We found," said the Missiona- 
ries, " near a house that we visited, fifteen persons nearly starved to 
death. They lay near each other, stri\nng to preserve warmth, for they 
Iiad no fire, nor the least morsel to eat. For very faintness they did not 
care to lift up themselves, or to speak to us. Four of their children were 
already dead wth hunger. At length a man brought a fish from the sea, 
and a girl snatched it, raw as it was, and tore it in pieces with her teeth, 
gorging it with violence. She looked pale as death, and was ghastly to 
behold. We distributed among them our small pittance, and advised them 
to endeavour to remove to our part of the land." Children perished in 
f^reat numbers by famine, and old people were buried alive in order to save 
the food that they would have consumed. The Missionaries participated 
in these sufferings, till their strength was exhausted, and their constitutions 
debilitated, yet occasional success in their spiritual work, caused them to 
count their afflictions light. Settlements were formed at New Herrnhut, 
Lichtenfels, and Lichtenau ; and materials for two churches were seat 



197 

tbem from Europe, which were erected and partially filled with worsIuj>- 
pers. In the year 1814, more than 1100 inhabitants belonged to these 
three settlements, and the whole population of Greenland was estimated 
at 7000. Since the commencement of the mission by Mr. Egede, whicii 
has comprised a century, the number baptized is computed at about 5000. 
The extension of this Note by an interesting extract from the 1 8tb 
volume of the Quarterly Review, will be forgiven by minds who have felt 
solicitude in the extension of truth, or sympathy for the privations of its 
messengers. It is a forcible delineation of the feelings of a missionary 
and his family, during the gloom and loneliness of a Greenland winter, 
and is drawn from the manuscripts of Saabj'e, a grandson of that venerated 
apostle Hans Egede. " Tliey have one bright epoch ; for it is a happy 
time, when the ice is loosed from the rocky coast, and they can expect 
the arrival of the vessel which alone reaches their solitude. Often de- 
ceived by the floating Ice-berg, forming itself in mockery into the shape 
of their friendly visitant, at length they see the white sails, the towering 
masts, the blessed guest riding at anchor in the bay. By this vessel tlieir 
wants are supplied. The active and pious housewife busies herself in 
arranging the stores of the ensuing twelvemonths Tliere are letters too, 
from friends, and from relations, and books, and newspapers ; and banished 
as they are, they live again in Denmark, in * their father-land.' The 
hour of enjoyment soon glides away ; the ship sails ; th* IMissionar)' and 
the partner of his toils remain beliind, solitary and forsaken. To this 
' season of sadness succeeds the gloom of the polar night. A few days 
before the 26th of November, Saabye was accustomed to climb the high 
rocks, from whence at noon he could just see the sun shining with a soft 
and pallid Hght ; and then the sun sank, and he bade fiirewell to the eye 
of creation with heaviness and grief. Dubious twilight lingered till the 
beginning of December ; then darkness ruled. The stream near which 
Saabye's house was situated, roared beneath the ice ; the sea dashed and 
howlc-d over the rocks, bursting, in foam against his windows, and the 
dogs filled the air wth long continued moans. About the 1 2th of Janu- 
ary, the rays of the rising sun glittered on the rocks, and suddenly faded, 
like the high-raised hopes of man." 

17* 



198 

J^ote n.—Une 334. 

*^ Madoc / wandering soit 
Of that unconquerd clime." 
i?rom researches made by British Antiquarians, it appears that ffadi-* 
tions exist of the discovery of America, by Madoc ap Owen Guyneth, a 
Welch Prince, in the year ll?-*. It is asserted that a colony was plant- 
ed by him, west of the Mississippi, and that their descendants have at 
various times been recognized by travellers. The fact has been recorded 
also, by the ancient poets of Wales, and the celebrated Mr. Southcy has 
founded upon it one of the most interesting modern epic poems in the 
English language. In Howel's Letters, volume 2, page 71, it is recorded, 
that Madoc ap Owen, Prince of Wales, made two voyages to America, at 
<he time specified : and the Welsh Cambria, translated into English, by 
H. Lloyd, contains, in its 225th page, the reasons which induced that 
Prince to undertake such an expedition. Some modern writers have em- 
ployed their pens in this investigation, among v.'hom are Dr. Williams, 
Rector of Sydenham, and the Rev. George Burder, late of Coventry, 
England, 

jS'ote 18.— Line 337. 

" The trcasur'd minstrelsy 
Of Taliesiti''s harp." 
Taliesin, who wrote in the sixth century, was one of the most cele- 
brated of the ancient Welch bards. His poems have been highly com- 
mended by the amateurs of the old Cambrian ndnstrelsy. The affinity of 
the language of Wales to the Hebrew, has rendered its study interesting 
to many classical scholars ; and recently, among the prizes offered in 
Jesus College, Oxford, England, for the best six Englynion, on a passage 
of Taliesin, beginning " Cymru fa, Cymru fydd." The early taste of 
(he Welch, for poetry and music, is well known. The knowledge of the- 
harp was considered essential to the character of a prince and a hero ; and 
the bards received in the courts of their kings such dignity and honour, 
as Homer asserts v;ere enjoyed by Demodo'i'us and Pheraius, in the firs', 
acres of Greece, 



199 

Kote \9.—Line 376. 

" Perchance in his lone cell 
At Valladolid." 
Columbus expired in obscurity, at Valladolid, on the 25th of May, 
1506, in his 59th year, exhausted by hardships and infirmities. The 
discoverer of America, like the conqueror of Mexico, found the close of 
his days rendered wretched by the persecution of enemies, and the chilling 
indifference of those from whom lie had expected patronage and consola- 
fion. 

JS'ote 20.— Line 386. 

" Mark'd ihy seers 

Mid the dim vista of futurity 

Ought like the step of Cortes ?" 
It is recorded by Robertson, that an opinion prevailed almost univer- 
sally among the Mexicans, that some dreadful calamity would befall their 
country, by means of formidable invaders wlio should come from regions 
towards the rising sun. Their superstitious credulity saw in the Spaniards 
the instruments of that fatal revolution which they: dreaded, and this in 
some measure accounts for the success of Cortes, with his ill-appointed 
force, over the monarch of a great and populous empire. 

When the spoilers, in descending from the mountains of Chalco, caught 
their first view of the vast plain of Mexico, interspersed with fertile and 
cultivated fields, enriched with a lake resembling the sea in extent, whose 
banks were encompassed with large towns, and whose bosom was beautified 
with an island, where rose the capital city, adorned with its temples and 
turrets, they were impressed at once with a conviction of the great wealth 
of the country, and with an irresistible desire to possess it. After the hu- 
miliating death of Montezuma, and the more barbarous subjugation of 
Guatimozin, the imperial city yielded to its conquerors, August 21, 
1521, after sustaining a siege of 75 days. This event, the most 
memorable of any in the conquest of America, preceded the death of 
Cortes 25 years. The neglect of his country embittered the declining 
life of the victor ; and it was decreed, that the punishment of his injustice 
and cruelty should be inflicted, not by the vengeance of those whom he 
had injured, but by the ingratitude of those he had served. 



200 

J^ote 2\.—Line 400. 

" Dsqy were thy prison sighs, 
Ahatualpa." 

The annals of the crimes of man are darkened with no blacker instance 
of perfidy, than that of Pizarro to the unfortunate monarch of Peru. 
Confiding in the protestations of the Spaniard, he advanced to the distance 
of a league from his city, to pay him a visit of respect. Pizarro in- 
structed a priest to proclaim some of the articles of the Popish faith, 
strangely intermixed with the claims of the crown of Spain upon the New 
World, to which Ahatualpa not immediately assenting, the desperad* 
seized him as his prisoner, and gave the signal of assault upon his followers. 

The carnage continued till the close of day, and the Peruvians, unpre- 
pared for combat, and ignorant of the mode of European warfare, left 
4000 dead upon the field, wthout scarcely making an impression upon 
the phalanx of their enemies. The imprisoned Inca made liberal offers 
for his ransom, and his subjects, like those of Richard Coeur de Lion, 
would have stripped the churches of their consecrated gold, to purchase 
liberty for their beloved sovereign. The apartment in which he was con- 
fined was 22 feet in length and 16 in breadth, and Pizarro demanded that 
it should be filled with vessels of gold, as high as he could reach. The 
line of demarcation was drawn upon the wall — the Peruvians hastened to 
heap the gold to the standard which avarice had prescribed, but with abomi- 
nable treachery-' the Inca was detained in captivity. He was brought to 
a mock trial, and condemned to be burnt alive. The miserable monarch 
was offered, at the place of doom, that alternative which is allowed the 
victims of the " Auto da fe," by the mercy of the Inquisition, to confess 
tlie Romish faith, and be strangled at the stake, or continue in heresy, 
and endure the anguish of the flame. Ahatualpa bowed to the baptismal 
font, and fell an immediate victim to the fury of those who, professing the 
** name of Christ, in works denied him." This execrable deed was per- 
petrated in the year 1533 ; and, on the 26th of June 1541, Pizarro was 
destroyed by conspiracy in the city of Lima. The record of his fame is 
stained with atrocious barbarity ; and he may be characterized, as the in- 
habitants of Melita unjustly designated the shipwrecked apostle, as " a 
jriurderer, whom, though he had escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered 
not to live." 



201 

Xote 22.— Line 421. 

" The L%isitanian bands 
Canw Jtocking." 
The discovery of Brazil is usually placed in the year 1500. The 
honour of that event is ascribed to Perez Alvarez Cabral, a Portuguese 
naval commander. He originally gave it the name of Santa Cruz, but 
this was changed to Brazil, by King Emmanuel. The derivation of the 
latter name is from Brasas, a Portuguese word, signifying " glowing fire, 
or a red coal," which colour resembles that produced by the celebrated 
tree " ibiripitanga," commonly called Brazil wood, with which that coun- 
try abounds. 

J\ote 2S.—Li?ie 433. 

*' Snatched for themselves a cold Acadia, white 

With frost, and drifted snow." 
Acadia, the original name given by the French to Nova-Scotia, was 
their first possession in the New World. It was granted, in the year- 
1603, to De Mons, with somewhat indefinite boundaries, by Henry IV. 
of France. Settlements were made in Canada, five years -after, by the 
same nation. Quebec, the capital, was reduced by General Wolfe in 
1759, the year after his conquest of Cape Breton, or " Isle Royale." 
The whole of Canada was ceded to Great-Britain, by the treaty at Paris, 
in 1763. 

JVote 24.— Line 43G. 

" uis NUus 'mid the Abyssinian wastes 
Unseals tkrovgh fringed reeds and xinllows dank 
His azure eyes" 
Tlie small source whence the St. Lawrence takes its rise, reminds us 
of the two parent springs of the Nile, whose size RoUin compares to that 
of a coach-wheel. They are, he remarks, thirty paces distant from each 
other, and are sometimes called eyes, " the same word, in Arabic, signify- 
ing both eye and fountain." 

A^of^ 25. — Line 454. 

" Poor German exile." 
The emigration from Germany to the United States, has been greater 
m recent times, than has generally been imagined. Only in the short 



202 . 

period included between July 12th, 1817, and the beginning of the year 
1818, nineteen vessels arrived, bringing passengers to the number of 
6000. They were of every age, from infancy to eighty years, and many 
of them so poor, that they were compelled to bind themselves out for a 
term of service, to defray the expenses of their scantily provided passage. 
M. von Fiirstenwarther, who was officially appointed to examine the situ- 
ation of his countrymen who had emigrated to the United States, reports, 
that " the ships made use of in this service, are commonly of the worst 
quality, old and unseaworthy, and the commanders ignorant, inexperienced, 
and brutal. I was on board of a vessel at the Hdder, July 7th, 1817, 
which had formerly been a Russian ship of the line, which a DutcLman 
had bought for the sake of carrying German emigrants to Philadelphia. 
There were already four or five hundred souls on board, and the vessel 
was not to sail without her complement of passengers. I have found the 
xiiisery of most of the German emigrants greater, and the condition of all 
more forlorn and helpless than I could have imagined. A ship arrived 
from Amsterdam at Baltimore, in the summer of 1817, the greater part 
of whose passengers had not paid their freight. Two families were bought 
^y y^^^ negroes in Maryland, but the Germans resident in Baltimore 
were so disgusted, that they immediately rebought them, and formed an 
association to prevent the recurrence of any such degrading abuse." 

*' Laws have been passed in Philadelphia," says the North- American 
Review, " for the protection of German redemptioners ; and by these it 
was estabfished, that the extreme term of service, in ordinary cases, for 
adults, is four years, and two years for the shortest term. Children un- 
der four years old, are not bound, but follow their parents ; males over 
four, are bound to serve till they are 2 1 , and females till they are eighteen 
years old." — Stern reahties, to those who parted from their native country 
•vath the expectation of finding in America something like Eden restored. 

jYote 26.— Line 482. 

" Still thy breast conceals 
The feudal sjririt." 
** In Germany the feudal institutions still subsist with great vigour. 
lis great princes possess all the feudal ])rWi\eges."~-'Bobertson s Scotla7id. 



203 



JVoie 27.— Line 494. 

" The form of CondS gleams 
As when at Jamac, rismg o'er his u'oiinds." 
The intrepid Conde approached the battle of Jamac, which xvas sustais- 
ed by the Huguenots wnth such constancy in the year 1569, with an arm 
»lebilitated and in a state of suffering. Entering the field, his leg also was 
broken, by the accidental rearing of the horse of his brother in law. Ris- 
ing superior to pain, he exclaimed to his followers, " Nobility of France ! 
know, that the prince of Conde, with an arm in a scarf, and a leg broken, 
fears not to give battle, since you attend him." After displaying prodi- 
gies of valour, he was found, exhausted with fatigue, surrounded, and 
taken captive. He was placed at the foot of a tree, by those who had 
made him their prisoner, and, while in this defenceless condition, was bar- 
barously shot by Montesquieu, a captain in the guards of the Duke of 
Anjou, whose master was supposed to have instigated the infamous deed, 
from motives of personal animosity. The persecuted Huguenots ever 
cherished with tender gratitude the memory of their great, benefactor. 
We may trace a strong expression of this affectionate sentiment, in the 
fact recorded by Heriot, in his " travels through the Canadas," that the 
7iame of Conde was given, by the early French settlers, to Lake Superior, 
as if they were anxious that his fame should find a monument in the most 
magnificent body of fresh and pellucid waters which the globe affords* 

JVote 28.— Line 505. 

" His eye that Hero turn'd 
Toward the Neiv World." 

It is well known that Admiral Coligny had contemplated a removal 
with the Huguenots, where, enjo^-ing liberty of conscience, the\' might be 
enabled without dread of death to say, " after the way which ye call here- 
sy, so worship we the God of our fathers." Permission had actually been 
accorded him, to conduct his adherents to the Floridas, but the design 
was deferred until the commencement of hostilities detained him to exhibit, 
on the continent of Europe, the invincible firmness and constancy of his 
character. He was the first victim of the diabolical massacre at Paris, on 



204 



St. Bartholomew's day, 1572. Having been previously wounded fay a 
hired assassin, and disenabled from defending himself, he was murdered in 
his chamber by a party led on by his implacable enemy, the Duke of 
G\iise. 



120;; 



NOTES 



TO 



©ASfS© S1(S®I». 



jYoie I.— Line 24. 

" — 5^/// their eyes ivere bent 
In the dark caverns of the earth to grope 
For drossy ore." 
'Die thirst of gold, which excited botli the enterprize and the barbarity 
of the settlers of South- America, pervaded in some degree the colonists 
of Virginia. About the year 1607, a glittering earth was discovered in 
the channel of a small stream near Jamestown, and from tliat time, says 
Stith in his history, " there was iio thought, no discourse, no hope, and 
no work, but to dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, and load gold." Capt. 
Smith's representations of the folly of such conduct had no effect, and 
they persisted in loading a vessel for England with this drossy dust. 
" Two vessels," says Judge INIarshall, " returned tliither in the spring 
and summer of 1G08, one laden with tiiis dust, and the other with cedar; 
the first remittances ever made from America by an English colony." 

Ao^e 2. — Line 45. 

" The Poet lur'd 
His ynuse to cjivgraie." 
Among the colonists of New England, who came under the protection 
of the son of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, in 1623, was the Rev. William 
Morrell, an Episcopal Clergyman, bearing a Commission from the Ec- 
clesiastical Court in England to exercise superintendency over sucli 
churches as miglu be established in the new region. He was a man of 

18 



206 

classical taste, antl described that part of the country which he explored, in 
an elegant Latin poem, a few specimens of which are subjoined with an 
attempt at translation. But he earl)^ made the discovery that the climate 
was uncongenial to his favourite art, and too frigid for the expansion of 
genius, and he returned to liis native country, after an absence of one 
year. 

" Hactenus ignotam populis ego carmine primus, 

Te Nova, de veteri cui contigit Anglia nomen, 

Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva. 

Fer mihi numen opem, cupienti singula plectro 

Pandere veridico, quae nuper vidimus ipsi : 

Ut breviter vereque sonent modulamina nostra. 

Temperiem cceli, vim terra?, munera ponti, 

Et varios gentis mores, velamina cultus. 

Anglia felici merito Nova nomine gaudens, 

Soevos nativi mores pertoesi coloni, 

Indigni penitus populi tellure feraci, 

Moesta superfusis attollit fletibus ora, 

Antiquos prccibus flectens ardentibus Anglos, 

Numinis eeterni felicem lumine gentem 

Efficere : aeternis qunc nunc peritura tenebris." 
— " Sunt etenim populi minimi sermonis, et oris 

Austeri, risusq.ue parum, scevique superbi ; 

Constricto nodis hirsute crine sinistro, 

Imparibus formis tendentes ordine vilJos ; 

Mollia magnanima peragentes otia gentes, 

Arte sagittifera pollentes, cursibus, armis 

Astutae ; recto, robusto corpore et alto, 

Pellibus indutse cervinis, frigora contra 

Aspera," 
* — " Num sua lunari distinguunt tempora motu, 

Non quot PhcEbus habet cursus, sed quot sua conjux 

Expletus vicibus convertat Cynthia cursus .- 

Noctibus enumerant sua tempora, nulla diebus, 

Mosque dlis Indis est inservire duobus, 

Quorum mollis, amans, bona dans, inimica, repellenc 



207 

Unus, amore bonum venerantur : at invluus alter, 
Dizos effundens cum turbine, fulgura niiiibos. 
Afliciensque mails variis, morbisque nefandis, 
Et violentis : hunc gelida formidine adoraiu." 

Hail, unknown World ! in shades so long enroU'd ! 
My trembling voice reveals thee to the Old, 
I, of rude wit, and undistinguish'd name. 
Inscribe thy record on the scroll of fame, 
Myself a stranger, choose the stranger's tlienie, 
And first for thee invoke the poet's dream : 
Oh ! maj' some heavenly Muse th' attempt inspire 
And pour her spirit o'er my shrinking lyre. 

Thy genial breezes bear the blush of health, 
Earth spreads her gifts, and Ocean yields liis weah'q, 
Yet 'mid thy happy lot incessant sighs 
Heave thy pure breast, and tears distain tliine eyes. 
Thy abject race a fpeechless sorrow wakes. 
And still thine eye its supplication makes. 
For some blest beam to light their hopeless tomb, 
And snatch their souls from everlasting gloom. 

—Men, spare in language, and of brow austerq, 
Averse from laughter, and in wrath severe. 
Supreme in strength the stubborn bow to wield, 
And bold in courage 'mid the blood-stain'd field ; 
Z\Ien of proud spirit, and of fierce design, 
Tho' oft in lingering indolence supine, 
Swift in the race as speeds the rushing storni, 
With wind-swept tresses, and majestic form, 
Clad in rude skins that mark the Imnter's toil, 
Throng the dark wild, but shun a cultur'd soil. 
Not by the smile which ardent Pha^bus gives, 
When to her annual goal the Earth arrives, 
Not by the changes of revolving Day, 
Their time they measure, or existence weigh : 
But by the lamp which gentle Cynthia burns, 



208* 

As round oar orb her silver axle tui'ns, 

And by the march of slow majestic Night, 

'Whose tardy vigils mock the trembling light. 

— Two Fow'rs unseen, their humbled hearts confess, 

One, full of good, omnipotent to bless, 

And one, in clouds who veils his awful form, 

liis sport the lightning, and his voice the storm : 

To that, in love, their grateful vows they pour, 

And this, through fear, with abject rites adore. 

Another poet, also, at a still earlier period, hazarded a transporta- 
tion to our western clime. This was Stephen Parmenias, a man of 
great learning, who was born at Buda, in Hungary, about the middle 
of the 16th century. For the completion of his education, he visited 
the most celebrated European universities, and during his residence 
hi England, forming a friendship for Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the half 
brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, decided to accompany him in his expe- 
dition to America, under the patronage of Queen Elizabeth. In the 
siiinmer of 1583, they arrived at Newfoundland, and took possession 
of it, in the name of the British crown. The Hungarian poet pre- 
served the memoiy of this expedition, in an elegant Latin poem, rich 
v%ith classical allusions, but on his return to Europe the same year, 
unfortunately perished in a violent storm, together with the admiral, 
and nearly a hundred of the crew. The poem alluded to, and like- 
wise a more particular account of this interesting Hungarian, may be 
found in the ninth volume of the " Collections of the Massachusetts 
Kiitorlcal Society." 

.Yote 3. — Line 75. 

" Thrice had he beheld 
His fading race scatter' d like autumn leaves:' 
Powhatan told Captain Smith that he was " very old, and had seen 
the death of all his people thrice, so that not one of the first genera- 
tion was living beside himself." Mr. Jefferson, in his " Notes on 
Virginia, relates that at the first settlement of the English, the terri^ 
tories of Powiiatan, were said to comprise 8000 square miles. 



209 

A'o. 4. — Line 31. 

" The brave accomplished 5//u*///." 
Capt. John Smith, who accompanied the Colony, which, in 1007, 
planted itself at Jamestown, displayed so many uncommon talents, 
suited to the exigencies of those difficult times, that the early histori- 
ans have been eloquent in his praise. Sthh, in his History of Vir- 
ginia, written in the year 1747, records in his antiquated st) le, the 
testimony of the soldiers, and fellow-adventurers of Smith. " They 
confess that in that age, there were many captains w ho were no 
soldiers, but that he was a soldier of the true old English stamp, 
who fought, not for gain or empty praise, but for his country's 
honour and the public good ; that his wit, courage and success 
were worthy of eternal memoiy ; that by the mere force of his 
virtue and courage, he awed the Indian kings, and made them sub- 
mit and bring presents ; that notwithstanding such a stern and 
invincible resolution, there was seldom seen a milder and more 
tender heart than his was ; that he had nothing in him counterfeit 
or sly ; but was open, honest, and sincere, and tluit they never 
knew a soldier before him, so free from the military vices of ^^illc, 
tobacco, debts, dice, and oaths." Judge MarsfiaTl, in his biography 
of Washington, in describing the expedients which Cajit. Smith 
devised, and the dangers which he encountered for the protection 
of the colony, remai-ks, that '• he preserved his health unimpaired, 
his spirits unbroken, and his judgment unclouded, amidst the gen- 
eral misery and dejection." After his liberation from captivity by 
Powhatan, he concerted measures for the safety of the colony, and 
the welfare of his government, he undertook a bold CNj)edilion to 
explore the waters of the Chesapeake, and to make researches into 
the countries upon its shores. '• He entered," says Marshall, "moi.t 
of the large creeks, and sailed up many of the great rivers to their 
falls. He made accurate observations on the extensive territories 
through which he passed, and on the various tribes inhabiting 
them, with whom he alternatel)'- fought, negotiated and traded. 
In the various situations in which he found himself, he always 
displayed judgment, courage, and that presence of mind, which is 
fib essential to the character of a commander j and he never i'aikid 

18* 



210 

finally to inspire the savages whom he encountered, with the most 
exalted opinion of himself, and of his nation. When we consider 
that he sailed above three thousand miles in an open boat ; when 
we contemplate the dangers, the hardships, he endured, and the 
fortitude, patience, and courage with which he bore them ; when 
we reflect on the useful and important additions which he made to 
the stock of knowledge, respecting America, then possessed by his 
countrymen, we shall not hesitate to say that few voyages of dis- 
covery, undertaken at any time, reflect more honour on those 
engaged in them, than this does on Captain Smith," 

Nott 5.— Line 92. 

" — ere Manhood's tinge had hronz\l 
His blooming chttk^ 
Captain Smith was born at Willoughby in 1759, and at the time 
of his slavery in Constantinople, when most of the romantic adven- 
tures of his life had terminated, the hero had only attained the 
age of 23 years. 

Note 6. — Line 171. 

" Where Marseilles retreats 
To rocky harrier.'" 
Marseilles, the ancient Massilia, is situated at the foot of a 
rocky mountain near the sea. Its natural advantages for commerce 
were such, that its trade flourished even in the days of Gothic bar- 
barism. The politeness and literature of its early inhabitants, 
were so conspicuous, that Livy pronounced it to have been as 
much polished as if it had risen in the midst of Greece ; and Ci- 
cero denominated it the " Athens of the Gauls." 

Note 7,— Line 183. 

" Oft they described 
The cell with linge'ing rainbow ever bright.'" 
The niche, in which the statue of the Virgin is placed in the 
*'' Casa Santa" of the church at Loretto, is adorned among other 
costly declarations, with 71 large Bohemian Topazes; neai' it 
stands an angel of cast gold, profusely enriched with gems and 
diamonds ; and the lustre of the precious stones with which this 
cell is ornamented, has been compared by pilgrims to a rainbow, 



211 

eclipsing the lamps with v>hich it is contrasted. The chHUibcr, 
containing this statue, is alleged by the adherents of tlie Romish 
church, to have been carried through the air by angels in the 
month of May, 1291, from Galilee to Tersato, in Dalniatia. From 
thence it was removed in tlie same manner, after having reposed 
somewhat more than four years, and set down in a wood in 
Italy, about midnight in the month of December, where it remain- 
ed nearly 200 years, before it was noticed by any author of that 
country. 

JSToie 8. — Line 302. 

'' Almost it seem'd 
That the strange/able caught from Pagan lore." 
The doctrine of Purgatoiy, whicli some have derived from the 
riatosiic fancies of Origen, the Montanism of Tertullian, pretended 
visions, or doubtful expressions of the later fathers, was intr odaced 
in part towards the close of the fifth century, but not positively 
affirmed till the year 1140, nor made an article of faith, till the 
council of Trent. 

JVb^e 9.— Line 377. 
^^ And ' seas of Jlarne.' " 
Moscow, in its conflagration, was emphatically compared to an 
• Ocean of flame. " 

JVote W;—Line 441. 

" There Samos spread 
Her beauteous harbours o'er the violet wave, 
While iri perspective soft her green fields gleamed 
In semi-annual harvest.'' 
Between Saraos and Icaria, the intensely deep blue colour of 
the water has been noticed by voyagers ; and in the * Childe 
Harolde' of Lord Byron, it is denominated the " dark blue sea." 
Athenajus relates, that in Samos, the fig-trees, apple-trees, rose- 
trees, and vines, bore fruit twice in a year. 

JVote if. — Line 446. 

*' Rosy Rhodes." 
The etymology of Rhodes, has been sought in the Greek word 
"Blwdon," signifying a rose, with which flower that island 



212 

abounded. The classical traveller, Clarke, observes, '' fl'om the 
number of appellations it has borne at different periods, it might 
at last have received the name of the Polynoman Island. It has 
been called Ophiusa, from the number of its serpents ; Telchynis ; 
Corymbria } Trinacria ; ^Ethra^a, from its cloudless sky ; Asteria, 
because at a distance its figure appears like that of a star ; Poessa ; 
Atabyria ; Oloessa ; Macaria, and Pelagia. Some are of opinion 
that Rhodes was first peopled by the descendants of Dodanim, the 
fourth son of Javan. Both the Septuagint and Samaritan trans- 
lation of the Pentateuch, instead of Dodanim use Rodonim ; and 
by this appellation the Greeks always distinguished the Rliodi- 
ans/' 

J\'ote 12,— Line 449. 

'' Those golden shoivers ivhkh testified the love 

Of ardent Pkcebus.^' 
The exuberant fertility of the soil of this island gave occasion 
to those fables embellished by the poets, of golden showers which 
they pretended to have fallen upon it. They feigned also a story of 
the love of Phojbus for Rhodes, and asserted it to have been an un- 
inhabitable marsh, until it was loved by him, and drawn from the 
waters by his powerful influence. But now, under Turkish oppression, 
the island no longer merits the appellation of " fortunate ;" and 
the golden showers of fiction, are changed to the iron influence of 
tyranny and desolation. 

JVote IS,— Line 563. 

** Vesjmsian's Coliseum, where the Goth, — 
Stood in amazement."'' 
The Coliseum, sometimes called the Flavian amphitheatre, was 
commenced by Flavius Vespasian, in the year 72, but finished by 
Titus, who employed upon it such of the Jews, as werebi'ought in 
slavery to Rome. This vast structure was viewed with wonder by 
the Gothic conquerors ; and the venerable Bedc records a prover- 
bial expression of the pilgrims of the north, by which in the Sth 
century they testified their admiration : " As long as the Coliseum 
stands, will Rome stand, when the Coliseum falls, Rome must fall, 
and with Rome, the world shall fall." 



213 

Kote 14. — Line 578. 

" — through the ivreck 
Of Devastation's wantonyjcss." 
Notwithstanding the Coliseum had in various instances been the sub- 
ject of dilapidation, liad furnished stone for the construction of the Far- 
nese Palace, by Michael Angelo, and had even been thrown open as a 
common quarry, in the 14th ceutuiy, for the use of the multitude, yet in 
the middle of the 16th century, its exterior circumference of 1612 feet 
still remained inviolate, and a triple elevation of fourscore arches was pre- 
served, rising to the height of 108 feet. 

Xoic 15. — Li.ie 579. 

" Where the pavilion with its purple pomp." 
Persons of the highest dignity had places assigned to them in a part of 
the amphitheatre called the Podium, near the centre of which was the 
Imperial Favilion, lined with silk, and embellished in the most splendid 
?nanncr. 

JVote 16.— Line 582. 

" The Cunci, dividing with strict care 

Patrician from Plebeian." 

The Cunei distinguished the seats appointed for the different classes of 
the people, so that every one might be conducted to the place allotted, by 
the laws of the amphitheatre, to his respective rank. The strictest atten- 
tion was exercised, lest any might obtain a dignity of station to which he 
was not entitled ; and the Cunei were under the direction of officers called 
Locarii, while the general care of the Coliseum was entrusted to the 
grand Villicus amphitheatri. 

Kote 11.— Line 590. 

" Those Vomitories, whence the noisy crowd 

Issu'd abrupt." 
The entrances to the passages and stair-cases were styled Vomitories ; 
and the crowd passing through them to witness favourite exhibitions wa* 
immense. Justus Lipsius asserts, that the Coliseum was capable of ac- 
commodating 87,000 spectators on benches ; and Fontana added 22,000 
for the galleries, stair-cases, and passages. On the grouad plan, the ex- 



214 



terior surface of the ellipsis covered a superficies of 246,661 feet, (more 
than five and a half acres,) and consisted of eighty arches, opening into a 
spacious double corridor, from whence radiated eighty passages and stair- 
cases, leading either to two inner corridors, to the arena, or to the galle- 
ries. 

Note IS.— Line 594. 

" The spread'mg Veluni's gorgeous canopy." 
At the summit of the Flavian amphitheatre was a sixth story, or rather 
floor, appropriated to those who managed the Velum, which was an awn- 
ing of various colours, occasionally stretched to protect the audience from 
rain, or the heat of the sun, and which, by means of cords and puUieif, 
could be extended or withdrawn at pleasure. 

?{ote 19.— Line 601. 

" Fought the stem Gladiators." 
The combats of Gladiators, were early exhibited at Rome, and the 
people became so strongly attached to these entertainments, that the em- 
perors found it politic to indulge their barbarous taste. Julius Caesar, 
during his aedileship, gratified the populace with combats between 320 pair 
of gladiators ; and Gordian, before the imperial purple was conferred upon 
him, gave those shows twelve times in a year, in some of which 500 
couple were engaged. Titus exhibited a show of gladiators, wild beasts^ 
and representations of sea-fights upon the Coliseum, which lasted 100 
days, and Trajan continued an exhibition of the same nature during one 
third of a year, in the course of which he brought out 10,000 gladiators. 
The master, by whom these miserable combatants were instructed in the 
science of defence, forced them to swear that they would fight till death, 
and if they displayed cowardice, they were made to expire by fire, sword, 
or whips, unless the voice of the emperor, or the people, gave them lif^. 

JVoie 20.— Line 613. 

** Which Jirst tipon its sacred banner bore 

The name of Christ." 

*' The disciples were first called Christians at Antioch." — Acts xi. 

26. Ignatius was the second bishop of this church, and, according to 

Eusebius, succeeded Euodius, near the close of the first century after the 

death of Christ. He suffered martvrdom in the amphitheatre at Rom^. 



215 

during the persecution of Trajan ; and was venerated, even among his foes, 
for his years and piety. 

AWe 21.— Line G15. 

" Full on thy right ear poiir'd 
The melody of Heaven." 
Ignatius was the first who introduced antiplional singing among the 
fh>irches of tlie East, which, according to Socrates, the ecclesiastical his- 
torian, he first learnt from a vision, in which the glorified spirits of heaven 
appeared, singing in alternate measures, hymns of praise to the Everlast- 
ing Trinity. 

Ao/e 22.— Line CGI. 

" Thy curb controuVd 
The tossing Danube.'' 
Trajan, in the year 104, constructed a bridge over the Danube, which 
was long admired as a relic of antiquity. After liis conquest of Assyria, 
lie descended the Tigris with his fleet, and had the honour of being both 
the first and the last Roman general who navigated the Indian Ocean. 

Note 23.— Line 670. 

'* The arch of Titus, rich icith victories 
O'er humbled Judah." 
The arcli of Titus is of tiie composite order, and represents upon its 
frieze his conquest of Judea, a delineation of the river Jordan, with the 
captives who attended his triumph, and the spoil and sacred utensils from 
the desolated temple. 

jYote 24.— Line TOO. 

f< — U'ho early u'ise 
Learnt ivith a philosophic sway to quell 
The passions' mutiny." 
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, who erected the celebrated Antonine 
column, to the memory of Antoninus Pius, made such great and early 
proficiency in his studies, that at th€^ age of twelve years he assumed the 
philosophical gown. With the gravity of a pliilosophcr he blended no 
severity, but continued virtuous without pride, and grave without melan- 
choly. Such was the enthusiasm of bis gratitude to those who had aided 



216 

him ia the pursuits of knowledge, that he kept their images of gold in hisr 
domestic chapel, and offered garlands of flowers at their tombs. 

Note 25.~Line 728. 
** — the blest christian Emperor Constantine." 
The splendid reign of Constantine, when the Church past from a state 
ef suffering to one of comparative power, when she was appointed to 
" arise from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments," is well known 
to every reader of ecclesiastical history. Among the triumphs of Chris- 
tianity which shed lustre on the annals of this prosperous prince, may be 
numbered the prohibition of the barbarous spectacles of gladiators, which 
was decreed by him in the East, on the first of October 325, and by 
Theodoric in the West, about the year 500. 

Note 26,— Line 763. 

" — like the brand 
Of mighty Scanderberg.^' 
The interesting scene of modern Greece contending with her oppressors, 
for her ancient birthright, and her long-trampled liberty, leads the mind 
back to the noble exploits of Scanderberg the Great, Prince of Albania. 
He was sent, when young, as a hostage to Amurath II. by his father, 
who held his territory in subjection to the Turkish government. Here 
be received the best education consistent with the Mahometan system, 
and so early distinguished himself for courage and military ability, that 
he received the command of a body of troops, at the age of eighteen. 
The death of his father in 1432, filled him with an unconquerable desire 
to redeem his native principality from Turkish thraldom. Attending the 
Mahometan army into Hungary, he entered into an alliance with the ce- 
lebrated Huniades, king of that country-, and soon after began to contend 
for the liberties of Albania. After many years of warfare with Mahomet 
II. the successor of Amurath, he established his dominion, and compelled 
his foes to propose conditions of peace. His invincible courage was ac- 
knowledged throughout Europe ; and in him the spirit of the ancient 
heroes and conquerors of Greece seems to have revived. He died at the 
age of 63, and from that period Albania has been the subject of Turkish 
oppression. Even foes were constrained to pay homage to the valour and 
greatness of Scanderberg, and when they besieged Lissa, the place of his 



217 

sepulchre, they disinterred hia bones, and had them set in silver, viewing 
thpni as precious relics and powerful amulets. 

Note 21.— 'Line 804. 

*' Alba-Regalis and Olumpagh fell 

Shaming the Moslem." 
" During the sieges of Olumpagh, and Alba-Regalis, young Smith was 
the projector of stratagems, and the conductor of certain modes of attack, 
which manifested an unusual talent for the art of war, and rendered the 
most essential services to the Christian cause. The command of a horse, 
^nd the rank of first major, were conferred on him, as an acknowledge.- 
ment of his high desert."-— Biographi/ of Capt. S?nUh. 

J\%te 28. — Line 886. 

** — luhile honours and reivards 
Jfhelm him in rich profusion." 
Smith, at his return from this eventful tournament, was attended by 
6000 men at arms to the pavilion of the general, where he received the 
most flattering reception, and was presented vnih a noble war-horse, richly 
caparisoned, and a scimitar and belt of great value. The Duke of Tran- 
sylvania gave him his own miniature set in gojd^^accompanied with the 
kindest expressions of regard, and issued letters patent of nobility, giving 
him for his arms three Turks' heads emblazoned on a shield. These 
were afterwards recorded in the herald's office in England, and became 
the permanent arms of Smith and his descendants. 

JS^ote 29,— Line 893. 

** From heaps (f slain 
In dark disastrous hour the youth is drawn 
Half lifeless." 
This was at the unfortunate engagement ofRottenton, in 1602, when 
the carnage of the Christian army was very extensive. Smith was left 
on the field among the deal, but the pillagers perceiving that he still 
breathed, and supposing from the elegance of his armour, that his ransom 
would be ample, took great pains to restore his life. After this was 
effected, and no cnc sought his redemption, he was sold at auction with 
other prisoners, and purchased by a bashaw, as a present to his mistress, 
a lady of distinguished beauty. 

19 



218 

^""ote 30,— Line 928. 

" Driven from the beauteous shades.^* 
The partiality of Charitza exciting the jealousy of her mother, Sinith 
was sent into Tartary, to her brother, the timor-bashaw of Nalbrits, on 
the Palus Moeotis. 

Xote 31. — Line 938. 

" IVlien the tyrant^ s wrath 
Heaped insolence with outrage, his bold hand 
Aveng'd it in his blood." 
Smith, exasperated by the personal brutalities of his master, struck 
iiim dead with a threshing bat, in his barn, about a league from his man- 
sion. Burying the body beneath the straw, he arrayed himself in the 
clothes of the dead bashaw, mounted his horse, and with only a knapsack 
of corn for his subsistence, fled for three days with the utmost precipitation 
through the deserts of Circassia. Accidentally finding the main road to 
Muscovy, he travelled apon it 16 days, under the greatest pressure of 
hunger and fatigue, until he reached a garrison on the Russian frontier,., 
where he found a safe refuge and a cordial welcome. 

JV'b^e 32.— Line 949. 

" — he surve^d 
JEtirope's exhausiless stores." 
After taking a range through various countries of Asia and Europe, 
he met at Leipsic his faithful patron, the Duke of Transylvania, who 
presented him with 1500 ducats to repair his decaying finances, and fur- 
nished him with letters of recommendation, setting forth his military ser- 
vices. He then took an extensive circuit through Germany, France and 
Spain. He passed also into Africa, and was allured, says his biographer, 
"by the rumours of war, and the native affinity of his mind for dangers, 
to spend some time at the court of Morocco." This must have been at 
the period of those competitions for the sovereignty which succeeded the 
death of Muley Achmet in 1 603, and which were finally decided by the 
succession of his youngest son, Muley Sidon, who reigned until the year 
1630. 



219 

JVVe SS.^Line 961. 

" Fringed with the rose-bay on its graceful stem/' 
The Nereum Oleander, a beautiful tree, delighting in moist situations, 
adorns the margin of the Mulluvia, a considerable river, which rises in 
Mount Atlas, and pursues its cpurse to the Mediterranean, partly dividing 
Algiers from rjorocco. 

.Yore 24:.— Line 071. 

" — 'neath the simple shade 
Of his umbrella, holds his Meshooar." 
In the empire of Morocco, there is no code of laws, but the will of a 
despotic monarch disposes of wealth, liberty, opinion, or existence, with- 
out appeal. Wherever he happens to be, he grants public audience four 
times a week, for the distribution of justice, sitting on horseback, while a 
groom holds an umbrella over his head. This the Moors call holding 
the " Meshooar ;" though there is also a place in the city of Morocco 
distinctively styled " the Meshooar," because devoted to these audiences. 
It is surrounded by walls, and situated between the old palace and the 
magnificent pavilions erected by Sidi Mahomet. _ 

J^J'ote So.— Line 9S-8r 

" Yet still the deep foundations of the main 

Echoed those battle thunders.'^ 
Smith returned to his native country by the way of France, and in his 
passage across the channel in a French galley, was in a desperate conflict 
wtth two Spanish ships of war, which continued nearly three days, and 
terminated in the discomfiture of the Spaniards. 

Kote 36.— Line 994. 

" j4 hardy pioneer to this New }Forld, 

Hewing out danger's path." 
Capt. Smith was one of the original company to which James I. under 
the date of April 10th, 1606, grjnted letters patent for the colonization 
fi{ America. He was appointed to a seat in the first council of what was 
then denominated the " South Colony," and though he met with the op- 
position which envy testifies to superior merit, he was afterwards elected 
president of that body. He embarked with his associates from Englandf 



220 

with Capt. Grosnold, on the 19th of December 1606, but did not arrive 
on the coast of Virginia, until past the middle of the succeeding spring. 

JVote^l.—Line 1006. 

" There enthroiid 
Sat great Potuhata7i." 

The Indian monarch at this audience was seated on a throne somewhat 
resembling a bedstead, clothed in a flowing robe composed of the skins of 
the Racoon, with a fanciful coronet of feathers upon his head. His resi- 
dence was at Worcwoconioco, and his sway not only extensive but imperial 
in the true signification of the term ; for he exercised dominion over thirty 
tributary kings. 

JVote S3.— Line 1024. 

" No such kind repast 
In gentle friendship, heralded thy deaths 
Poor Ugolino." 
The death of Count Ugolino and his sons, by hunger, in the prison of 
Pisa, during the contest of the Guelphs and Ghibellines, at the close of 
the thirteenth century, furnished a subject for one of the most striking his- 
torical pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and is described by Dante in hi^ 
'' Inferno," mih great poetical energy. 

" Dreams wak'd me ere the dawn, when in their sleep 

I heard my children groan, and call for bread, 

Oh cruel ! should no pity touch thy soul 

To think how much a father's heart presag'd ? 

If now thou shedd'st no tears, what have thy eyes 

Been us'd to weep at ? Now my boys awoke ; 

The hour arriv'd, when each expected food, 

As wonted, would be brought him ; but his heart 

Mistrusted, when each thought upon his dream, 

.\nd I — oh horrible ! that instant heard 

The dungeon's iron doors more firmly lock'd : 

Ja desperate silence on my sons I gaz'd, 

I could not weep — my breast was turn'd to storjje. 

The little victims wept, and one began, 



221 



(My dear Anselmo,) * Father ! why that look I 
What ails my Father ?' 

Ah ! I could not weep, 
Nor answer all that day, nor yet that night. 
Till on the world another morn arose. 
As faintly through our doleful prison gleam'd 
The tremulous ray, so I could view again 
Each face, on which my features were imprest, 
Both hands I gnaw'd in agony and rage. 
Sweet innocents ! They thought me hvinger-stung, 
And rising on a sudden, all exclaim'd, 
* Father ! our anguish would be less severe 
If thou would'st feed on us. This fleshly vest 
Thou didst bestow ; now take it back again.' 
I check'd my inward nature, lest my groans 
Should aggravate their anguish. All were mute 
That bitter day, and all the morrow. 

Earth ! 
Why didst thou not obdurate earth ! dispart ? 
The fourth sad morning came, when at my fe^ 
My Gaddo fell extended. ' Help,' he-eried, 
' Canst thou not help me, father ?' and expir'd. 
Thais wither'd as thou see'st me, one by one 
I saw my children ere the sixth morn, die. 
Then seiz'd with sudden blindness, on my knees 
I grop'd among them, calling each by name 
For three days after they were dead. At length 
Famine and death clos'd up the scene of woe." 

Note 3d.— Line 1065. 

** — one young timid maid 
Sat near the thro7ie.^' 

'J9ie Princess Pocahontas, in many instances, besides the rescue of 
Capt. Smith, signified a firm friendship for the English colony. From 
famine and secret conspiracy, she was more than once the instrument of 
deliverance, "Oft times," says Capt. Smith, in his history of Virgin^ 

19* 



222 



" in the utmost of my extremities, hath that blessed Pocahontas, the daugh- 
ter of the great king of Virginia, saved my life." With the heroic mag- 
nanimity of a noble soul, she united the softness and tenderness of the 
feminine character. Yet notwithstanding all her acts of disinterested 
kindness to the English, she was treacherously decoyed by them on board 
one of their vessels, and carried to Jamestown. Still their sense of hon- 
our moved them to treat her with all that respect which her correct de- 
portment and high rank deserved. 

" The motive to this step," says Judge Marshall, in his Life of Wash- 
ington, " was a hope, that the possession of Pocahontas would give the 
English an ascendancy over Powhatan, her father, who was known to 
dote on her. In this, however, they were disappointed. Powhatan 
offered first, corn, then friendship, if they would immediately restore his 
daughter, but refused to come to any terms until that reparation was 
made for what he resented as an act of treachery. During the detention 
of the Princess at Jamestown, she made an impression on the heart of 
J\d^r. Rolfe, a young gentleman of estimation in the colony, who als'o suc- 
ceeded in gaining her affections. They were married with the consent of 
Powhatan, who by this event v/as entirely reconciled to the English, ani^ 
ever after continued their sincere friend." After the arrival of Pocahon- 
tas in England, with her husband, a petition was addressed in her behalf 
to Queen Anne, by Capt. Smith, bearing the date of June 1616, in the 
course of which he mentions, " Being taken prisoner by the power of 
Powhatan, I received from this great savage exceeding great courtesy, 
especially from his son Nantaquas, the manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit 
that I ever saw in an Indian, and this sister Pocahontas, the king's most 
dear and well-beloved daughter, whose compassionate, pitiful heart of my 
desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect her. I being the first 
Christian that this proud king and his grim attendants ever saw, and thus 
enthralled in their barbarous power, I cannot say that I ever felt the least 
occasion of want, which v/as in the power of these my mortal foes to pre- 
vent. After some six weeks falling under these savage courtiers, at the 
moment of my own execution, she hazarded the beating out of her own 
brains to save mine, and then Nantaquas so prevailed with hisfather, that 
I was safely conducted to Jamestown, where I found about 38 miserable, 
poor and sick qreatures, to keep possession for all those large territories of 



223 

Virginia. Such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth, that had 
not the Indians fed us, we directly had starved. And this relief, most 
gracious Queen, was commonly brought us by the Lady Pocahontas, who, 
notwithstanding all the changes when inconstant fortune turned our peace 
into war, would not spare to dare to visit us ; and by her our jars have 
been often appeased, and our wants still supplied. When her father, with the? 
utmost of his policy and power, sought to surprize me, having but eighteen 
with me, the dark night could not affright her from adventuring through 
the darksome woods, and with tearful eyes giving me the intelligence, 
with her best advice how to escape his fury, which had the king known he 
had surely slain her. She, under God, was the instrument to preserve 
this colony from death, famine, and utter confusion : for if in those times 
it had been once dissolved, Virginia might have lain unto this day, as it 
was at our arrival." 

Tlie age of Pocahontas, at the time of her saving the life of Capt. 
Smith, is usually fixed at thirteen years, though Mr. Davis, in a note to 
his song of the " Angel of the Wild," represents her as a child of only 
eleven years. As this poetical effusion happily displays the tender sensi- 
bility of that noble heroine, it is extracted as a close to this note. 
THE ANGEL OF THE WILD: 
"Sunt lachryma;." — VirgT 
Now blazes bright the wig»vam-haU, 

The plumed Chiefs are circled wide. 
Above the crowd with lordly call 

Sits Powhatan, in frowning pride. 
The captive Smith, in bonds is brought, 

His head reclines upon a stone. 
The fatal club of Death is sought. 

While tawny maids his fate bemoan. 
When lo ! with scream of anguish loud, 

A tender child, in gorgeous vest, 
Runs to the stranger through the crowd. 

And kneeling, clasps him to her breast. 
See, see, her arms around him twin'd. 
And hear her pour the piteous wail ; 
As if for hopekss love she pin'd. 



224 

Her tresses loose, her dear cheek pale. 
"Stay, stay the club !" exclaims the king. 

And hush the white man's dire alarms." 
Then rushing through the shouting ring 

He strains his daughter in his arms. 
Fair Spirit ! nurs'd in forest wild, 

Whence caught thy breast those sacred flames- 
That mark thee Mercy's meekest child 

Beyond proud Europe's titled dames. 
Scalps and war-we»pons met thy gaze, 

And trophies wove in blood-stain'd wreath i 
Thy birth-star was the funeral blaze, 

Thy lullaby the song of death. 
But Pity sought thee in the wild, 

Invisible, thy cradle rock'd, 
Seraphic Love his offerings pil'd 

And heavenly graces round thee flock'd. 

JVote 40. -^Line 1137. 

** IVJiUe loith the diamond seal of truth he stamps 
His oathless treaty." 
Clarkson, in his life of William Penn, describes the manner m which" 
liis great treaty with the Indians was confirmed, in the year 1682. " The 
religious principles of Penn," says his biographer, "which led him to the 
practice of the most scrupulous morality, did not permit him to look upon 
the king's patent, or legal possession according to the laws of England, 
as sufficient to establish his right to the country, without purchasing it by 
fair and open bargain of the natives, to whom it properly belonged. He 
had instructed commissioners who arrived in America before him, to buy 
it of the latter, and to make with them a treaty of eternal friendship. 
This, those commissioners had done, and now, by mutual agreement be- 
tween him and the Indian chiefs, it was to be solemnly ratified. He pro- 
ceeded, therefore, accompanied by his friends, consisting of men, woinen, 
and young persons of both sexes, to Coaquannoc, the Indian pame for 
the place where Philadelphia now stands. On his arrival, he found the 
sachems and their tribes assembling. They were seen through the woodSs, 



225 

US far Qs the eye could reach, and looked frightfully both ©n account of 
their number and their arms. The Quakers are reported to have been 
but a handful in comparison, and without any weapon ; so that dismay and 
terror must have seized them, had they not confided in the righteousness 
of their cause. It is much to be regretted, when we haA'e accounts of 
minor treaties, between William Penn and the Indians, that no historian 
has any particular detail of this, though so many mention it, and all con- 
cur in considering it the most glorious of any in the annals of the world. 
There are, however, relations in Indian speeches, and traditions in Quaker 
Cimilies, descended from those who were present on the occasion, from 
which we may learn something concerning it. It appears that though the 
parties were to assemble at Coaquannoc, the treaty was made a little 
higher up, at Shackamaxon. Upon this site, Kensington now stands, 
the houses of which may be considered as the suburbs of Philadelphia. 
There was at Shackamaxon, an elm tree of a prodigious size. To this, 
the leaders on both sides repaired, approaching each other under its widely- 
spreading branches. William Penn appeared in his usual dress. He 
had neither crown, sceptre, mace, sword, halberd, or any insignia of emi- 
nence. He was distinguished only by wearing a sky-blue sash round his 
waist, made of silk net-work, and of no larger dimensions than an officer's 
military sash, which, except in colour, it resembled. On his right hand 
was Col. Markham, his secretary and relative ; on his left, his friend 
Pierson, followed by the train of Quakers. Before him were carried va- 
rious articles of merchandize, which, when they came near the Sachems, 
were spread upon the ground. He held a roll of parchment, containing 
the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity, in his hand. One 
of the Sachems, who was the chief of them, then put upon his own head 
a kind of chaplet, in which appeared a small horn. Tliis, according to 
scripture language, and among the primitive eastern nations, was an em- 
blem of kingly power ; and whenever the Chief who had a right to wear 
it, put it on, it was understood that the place was made sacred, and the 
persons of all present inviolable. Upon putting on this horn, all the In- 
dians threw down their bows and arrows, seating themselves round their 
Chiefs, in the form of a half moon upon the ground. The principal 
Sachem then announced to William Penn, by the aid of an interpreter, 
that the nations weie ready to bear him. He then said, that the Great 



226 



Spirit, who made him and them, who ruled the heavens and the earth, 
and was acquainted with the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he 
and his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with 
them, and serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their 
custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, therefore, 
came they to this treaty unarmed. Their object was not to do injury, 
and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They had met them 
on the broad path-way of good faith and good Avill, so that no advantage 
was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood 
and love. After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and 
by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them, article by article, 
the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the contract then made 
for their eternal union. Among other things, they were not to be mo- 
lested in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had ahenated, for 
it was to be common to them, as well as to the English. They were to 
have the same liberty to do all things therein, relating to the improve- 
ment of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which 
the English had. If any dispute should arise between the two, it should 
be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and half 
Indians. He then paid them for the land, and made them many presents 
beside, from the merchandize which was spread before them. Having 
done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again, 
that the ground should be common to both people. He then added, that 
he would not do like the inhabitants of Maryland, that is, call them only 
children or brothers ; for parents were sometimes unkind to their children, 
and brothers would often differ ; neither would he compare the friendship 
between them to a chain, which the rain might rust, or a tree fall upon 
aild break ; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood with 
the Christians, the same as if a man's body was to be di^nded into two 
parts. Taking up the parchment, he then presented it to the Sachem 
who wore the horn in his chaplet, and desired him and the other Sachenjs 
to preserve it carefully for three generations, that their children might 
know what had passed between them, when they were no longer living to 
repeat it. It is to be regretted that the speeches of the Indians, on this 
memorable day, have not come down to us. It is only known that they 
solemnly pledged themselves, according to the manner of their country, 



to live In love with William Penn and his children as long as the sun and 
moon should endure. Thus ended this famous treaty, of which more has 
been said in the way of praise, than of any other ever transmitted to pos- 
terity." 

To the commendation which the biographer of the Man of Peace be- 
stows on this honourable transaction, we add the concise eulogium of 
Voltaire, who pronounced it to be " the only treaty which was ratified 
without an oath, and tlie only one which was never broken." 

JS'bie 41. — Une 1138. 

" JFell might he who sigh'd 
A fugitive from his ^Jatcmal home 
Feel for the outcast." 
Admiral Penn, being greatly displeased at his son's adoption of reli- 
gious principles of an unpopular class, and which would preclude his pre- 
ferment at court, treated him with severity, and twice indignantly sent 
him from the slielter of the paternal roof, but was eventually softened by 
his meekness and consistency of deportment, into reconciliation and the 
renewal of affection. 

.yote 42.^Li}ie 1145. ^ 

" Slill at the blest ittrme 
Of the beloved Miqiicniy starts the tear 
Of Itulian gratitude." 
Heckewelder observes, that " never will the tribe of the Delaware's 
forget their elder brother Miquon, as they affectionately and respectfully 
call him. 'The great and good Miquon came to us,' they say, 'bring- 
ing the words of peace and of good will.' When they were told the 
meaning of the name of Penn, they translated it into their own language 
by Miquon, which means a feather or quill. The Iroquois also called 
him Onas, which in their idiom signifies the same thing."'— Hecken>^~ 
dcr, \st volume. 

.Yoie 43.— Line 114S. 

--" — faithful as the race 
Of Rcchab to their dying Sire*s command." 
'The comme'ndations bestowed on the Rechabites, in the 35th chapter 
of the prophet Jeremiah, for their strict obedience to the injuBCtions of « 



228 

olepartecl father, might be in a degree applied to the followers of William 
Penn, for their inflexible adherence to his precepts with regard to our 
aborigines. Considered too, generally, by the other settlers, either as 
foes to be exterminated, or vassals to be oppressed, they received from 
these mild colonists the charities of brethren. Pennsylvania, rising on 
the basis of fair and open purchase, unpolluted by injustice, or persecution 
of the natives, in her institutions acknowledged their allodial right to the 
soil, and has ever been preserved from those desolating wars, which dis- 
tressed the infancy of many of our territories, and threatened to destroy 
their existence. 

JVote 44.— Line 1200. 

" — wretched Chief/ 
Unhappy Orellana." 
Orellana was chief of a powerful tribe in the neighbourhood of Buenos 
Ayres. With ten of his followers he was seized, and treacherously con- 
veyed on board a Spanish ship, which, with a large crew of Spaniards, 
and a number of English and Portuguese prisoners, set sail from the 
■uouth of the river La Plata, in the month of November 1745. 

JVote 4d.—Line 1211. 

** Incessant wrongs 
Harrow thy lofty spirit. ^^ 
The Spaniards treated the Indians with great insolence and barbarity. 
It was common for the meanest officers in the ship to beat Ihem most 
cruelly, and one of them, a very brutal fellow, ordered Orellano aloft, a 
service which he knew he was incapable of performing, and under pretence 
of disobedience beat him with such violence as to leave him bleeding on 
the deck, stupified with bruises and wounds. Orellana and his followers 
bore these outrages without complaint, but they were secretly meditating 
revenge on their oppressors. 

Kote 46,— Line 1229. 

" JFith thong distain^d." 
Previous to their bold attempt, the Chief, and his companioiis in 
wretchedness, had secretly employed their leisure in cutting thongs from 
raw hides, and in fitting to each extremity of them the double headed shot 



229 

of the small quarter-deck guns. Tliese, when swung around their heads, 
according to the custom of their country, were a dangerous weapon, in 
the use of which the natives of Buenos Ayres are trained from their in- 
i^ncy, and consequently very expert. 

Note 47.— Line 1236. 

" — beneath inclos'dj 
Hundreds of pale oppressors shuddering coiL'er\t." 
The crew consisted of nearly 500 men, and the ship mounted 66 guns. 
That an Indian Chief, with only ten followers, ignorant of nautical man- 
agement, unacquainted with the use of fire-arms, and unable to procure 
any weapon, except the knives used for their food, and the thongs already 
described, should be able to lay 40 Spaniards at their feet, and so to in- 
timidate a formidable crew of more than 40 times their number, as to 
keep uninterrupted possession of the ship for two hours, and then that 
they should be attacked merely by shot fired at random through the cabin 
doors, and other crevices, by disciplined men who fewed to approach thenv 
is a fact without parallel in the pages of history. 



20 



230 



NOTES 



Td 



©AH^® ®Mim©. 



Note 1. — Line 18. 

" Wiere TTcOurns the forest Chkftain o'er his race 
Banished and lost, of whom not one remains 
To pour their tears for him" 
'fhe follo^^ung speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, was given by the late 
General John S. Eustace to an intimate friend. He confirmed its au- 
thenticity by the information that it was presented him personally by Lord 
Dunmore, to whom it was uttered by the unfortunate chief, while he held 
the station of Governor of Virginia. 

" My cabin, since first I had one of my own, has ever been open to 
any white man who wanted shelter. My spoils of hunting, since first I 
becan to range these woods, have I ever freely imparted to appease h.s 
hunger, to clothe his nakedness. But what have I seen? What ! but 
that at my return at night, laden with spoil, my numerous family he 
bleeding on the ground, by the hand of those who had found my httle hut 
a certain refuge from the inclement storm, who had eaten -7^00^'-^^° 
had covered themselves with my skins ! What have I seen ? What ! 
but that those dear little mouths, for which I had toiled the hve-long 
day, when I returned at eve to fill them, had not one word to thank me 

for all that toil ! , , . ^. i TU„ 

What could I resolve upon? My blood boded .nthm me! My 

heart leaped to my mouth ! Nevertheless, I bid my tomahawk be quiet, 



231 

and lie at rest for tliat war, because I thought the great men of your coun- 
try sent them not to do it. Not long afterward, some of your men in- 
vited our tribe to cross the river, and bring thair venison with them. 
They, unsuspicious of evil design, came as they had been invited. The 
white men then made them drunk, murdered them, and turned their knives 
even against the women. 

Was not my own sister among them ? Was she not scalped by the 
hands of that very man, whom she had taught to escape his enemies, 
when they were scenting out his track ! What could I resolve upon ? 
My blood now boiled thrice hotter than before ! Tlirice again my heart 
leaped to my mouth. I bade no longer my tomahawk be quiet, and lie 
at rest for that war. I no longer thought that the great men of your 
country sent them not to do it. I sprang from my cabin to avenge their 
blood, and fully have I done it in this war, by shedding yours from your 
coldest to your hottest sun. Thus revenged, I am now for peace. To 
peace have I advised most of my countrymen. Nay ! what is more, I 
have offered, I still offer myself as a victim, being ready to die if their 
good require it. Think not that I fear death ! I have no relations left 
to mourn for me. Logan's blood runs in no veins but^these. I would 
nor turn on my heel to escape death. And why^should I ? for I have 
neither wife, nor child, nor sister, to howl for me when I am gone." 

The following version of an " Indian Lament," which recently ap- 
peared in the public prints, unaccompanied with the author's name, ex- 
presses with simplicity and patlios, some of the feelings which characterize 
-the speech of Logan. 

" The black-bird is singing on Michigan's shore. 

As sweetly and gaily as ever before ; 

For he knows to his mate he at pleasure can hie 

And the dear little brood she is teaching to fly. 

The sun looks as ruddy, and rises as bright, 

And reflects o'er our mountains as beamy a light 

As it ever reflected, or ever exprest, 

When my skies were tlie bluest, my visions most blest. 

The fox and the panther, both beasts of the night. 

Retire to their dens at the gleaming of light, 

Aad they spring with a free and a sorrowless track, 



232 

For they know that their mates are expecting them back j 

£ach bird, and each beast, it is blest in degreCj 

All nature is cheerful, is happy, but me. 

I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair, 

I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ; 

I will sit on the shore where the hurricane blows, 

And reveal to the god of the tempest, my woes : 

I will weep for a season; by bitterness fed. 

For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ; 

But they fell not by hunger, or lingering decay, 

The steel of the white man hath swept them away, 

The snake-skin that once I so sacredly bore, 

I will toss with disdain to the storm-beaten shore. 

Its spell I no longer obey or invoke. 

Its spirit hath left me, its magic is broke. 

I will raise up my voice to the Source of the Light, 

I will dream on the wings of the Angels of Night, 

I will spealc with the spirits that whisper in leaves. 

And that minister balm to the bosom that grieves, 

I will take a new Manitto, one who shall deign 

To be kind and propitious to sorrow and pain. 

Oh ! then shall I banish these cankering sighs, 

And tears shall no longer gush salt from mine eyes» 

I shall wash from my face every cloud colour'd stain. 

Red ! red ! shall alone on my visage remain. 

I will dig up my hatchet, and bend my oak bow, 

By night and by day will I follow the foe ; 

No lake shall repress me, no mountain oppose, 

For blood can alone give my bosom repose. 

They came to my cabin, when heaven was black, 

I heard not their coming, I knew not their track, 

Yet I saw by the glare of their blazing fusees, 

They were people engendered beyond the big seas : 

My wife and my children ! oh ! spare me the tale^ 

But who is there left who is kin to Geeh^le ? 



233 

Note 2,— Line 114. 

" Sai/y may ivc place 
Thy name upcni that canvas, xvhich high Fame 
Blazons, but yet inscribes not F" 
The celebrated Scottish novels, which have excited such uncommon 
degrees, both of admiration and curiosity, seem now to be almost gene- 
rally referred to the pen of Sir Walter Scott. The strong resemblance 
between the poetical works acknowledged to be !iis, and the productions 
" by the Author of Waverly," points the inquirer, b}^ a kind of internal 
evidence, to the wand of " that great Enchanter of the North." Yet to 
the public it seems an inexplicable modesty, which should incite an author 
to withhold so long his name from works so vivid in description as to an- 
nihilate the barriers of distance, and dispel the mists of time ; so patriotic, 
that strangers from all nations are led in pilgrimage to Scotland, to do 
homage to her lakes, and mountains, and ruined castles, and caverns, as 
if some tutelary divinity resided there; so brilliant in fancy, that the lover 
of romance prefers them to all that had before captivated him, yet so 
faithful to history, that Truth ofiers them as a guide to the ibtudent ; so 
replete with the knowledge of human nature, that Shakespeare seems to 
have revived, and reinstituted his claim to the adeikation of remote pos- 
terity. 

JS^'oie 3.— Line 225. 

" — and her gift 
Grasped as the bane of Fominc." 

The potatoe is styled by Mr. Donaldson, " the bread-root of Great- 
Britain and Ireland." Writers affirm tliat it was introduced into the 
latter island by Sir Waiter Raleigh, about the year 1623 ; and that a 
vessel laden with it, and wrecked upon the coast of Lancashire, was the 
means of dispensing its benefits to England, as the ship of Cartilage, 
driven upon the strand of Italy, gave a fleet to Home. 

But Sir Joseph Banks, in his comnmnication to tlio Horticultural So- 
ciety of London, states that the potatoe was brouglit to England from 
Virginia, by some colonists sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh, wlio returned 
as early as 1586. From thence it was soon alter conveyed to Ireland, 

20* 



234 

where it was cultivated, and extensively used among the common peopTe, 
before the inhabitants of England were fully sensible of its value. 

;^'ote 4. — Line 226. 

" The fruitful maize." 
America has the honour both of presenting Europe with the Solanum 
Tuberosum, which has so sensibly diminished the ravages of famine within 
her bounds, and likewise of furnishing the native soil for a grain remarka- 
ble for its productiveness, and second only to wheat, in the degree of nutri- 
ment it affords to the human frame. According to Marabelli's analysis 
of the Zea Mays, it " contains a saccharine matter of different degrees 
of purity, from which alcohol, the oxalic and acetous acids, may be ob- 
tained ; a vegetable amylaceous substance, a glutinous substance ; muriat 
and nitrat of magnesia ; carbonats of potasb, lime, and magnesia ; and 
iron." 

J^ote b.—Line 264. 

" The firm Diospi/ros.^^ 
The Diospyros Virginiana rises to the height of from fourteen to six- 
teen feet, with a wood extremely hard and brittle. It produces a plumb 
of about the size of a date, and its bark is useful in intermittent fevers. 
The bark of its root has been considered also a tonic, favourable to the 
treatment of dropsies. 

J^Tote 6.— Line £G7. 

" — freely urg'd 
The cool aperient from the fragrant bark 
Of Sassaf-as." 
Tlie bark of the Laurus Sassafras is a remedy in intermittents. " Its 
oil, also," says the late Professor Barton, " has been found efficacious when, 
externally applied in cases of wens." Anotlier plant of the same genus, 
the Laurus Benzoin, commonly called Spice- Wood, enters extensively into 
the materia medica of the natives. A decoction of its twigs is an agreea- 
ble aperient, and in our revolutionary war, when the patriotism of the peo- 
ple incited them to adopt the productions of their own country in the 
place of those foreign luxuries to which they had been accustomed, the 
dried and pulverized berries of the Laurus Benzoin were adopted as a 
substitute for allspice, as the saccharins juice of the cornstalk had beei* 



235 

ftand to supply the place of rsolasses, and an infusion of the leaves of 
the sage, to supercede the teas of China. 

A'ote l.—Line 269. 

** Cropped the fair bloom mth which young Spring adorns 
The flowering Comus." 
The flowers of the Cornus Florida, or as it is usually called, Dogwood, 
appear in the spring, and exhibit a beautiful appearance. Their large and 
white involucre form a fine contrast to the forest green, and their hue 
becomes gradually more delicate, as if emulous of the purity of snow. 
Our natives use an infusion of these flowers in intermittents ; and some 
of the tribes gave a name to the season of Spring, in allusion to the bloom 
of this plant. Its blossoms are succeeded by oblong drupes of a rich crim- 
son tint, which are sometimes used as a tonic in the form of a spirituous 
impregnation, and likewise furnish a favourite food for various species of 
birds. Its wood, under the name of New-England box, is held in high 
estimation for its durability, and enters into the construction of many 
articles both for utility and ornament. But what constitutes its principal 
value is the discovery that its inner or cortical bark, promises to be equally 
valuable with the Peruvian. Indeed, it may be considered superiour, as 
being less nauseous to the taste and the stomaclv-always to be obtained 
in abundance, and not liable to the danger of adulteration. The merits 
of this substance as a medicine, have been clearly and forcibly displayed by 
Dr. Walker of Virginia, in an inaugural dissertation on the comparative 
virtues of the Cornus florida, Cornus sericea, and Cinchona officinalis of 
Linnaeus. After detailing a number of chemical experiments, he re- 
marks : " A summary recapitulation of these experiments shews, that the 
Cornus florida, sericea, and Peruvian bark, possess the same ingredients 5 
that is, gum, mucilage, and extracts ; which last contain the tannin and 
gallic acid, though in ditferent proportions. The Florida has most of 
the gum mucilage and extracts ; the Sericea the next, which appears to 
be an intermediate between the Florida and Cinchona ; while the latter 
possesses most of the resin. Their virtues appear similar, and equal, in 
their residence. The extract and resin possess all their active powers. 
The extract appears to possess all their tonic powers. The resin, when 
perfectly separated from the extract, appears to be purely stimulant ; and 



536 



probably the tonic powers of the extract are increased when combined with 
a portion of the resin, as in the spirituous tincture." Dr. Gregg, of Bristol 
in Pennsylvania, in a testimony to the merits of the Cornus florida, asserts, 
that during a period of 23 years, experience of its virtues had convinced 
him, " that it was not inferior to the Peruvian bark in curing intermittents ; 
nor inferior as a corroborant in all cases of debility." 

JSote 8. — Line 2^0. 

" Anxiously they sought 
The Liriodendron,^^ 
The bark of the Liriodendron Tulipifera is considered by some as scarcely 
inferior to the Cinchona in the cure of fevers. It has also been classed 
among remedies in cases of gout and rheumatism. This fine tree produces 
flowers resembling the tulip, beautifully variegated with light green, yellow 
and orange, and standing solitary at the extremities of the branches. The 
leaves of this tree have a peculiarly obtuse form, and its young bark is 
aromatic. 

Xote 9— Line 272. 

** — sanguine Cornus, with Us snoun/ cuj) 
And sapphire drupe." 
The Cornus sericea, or American Red-root cornel, is sometimes called 
from the colour of the epidermial covering of its young shoots, the Red- 
Willow. It is found in a moist soil, usually by the banks of rivers, and 
seldom exceeds the height of ten or twelve feet. Its white flowers appear 
in clusters, and are succeeded by a succulent drupe of a blue colour. The 
North- Carolinian Indians scrape the inner bark as a substitute for tobacco, 
or sometimes use it as an adjunct to that plant. It is considered in me- 
dicine equal to the pale Peruvian bark. " When we consider," says Dr. 
Walker, " the causes of the various forms of disease which are the en- 
demics of our country, we cannot but receive additional inducements to 
regard the Corni as the most valuable vegetable which Nature, in the 
prolificness of her bounty, has scattered through the wide forests of North- 
America. For so long as the mouldering ruins of our swamps, and the 
uncultivated conditions of our marshes, shall afford materials for the pec- 
cant operations of an autumnal sun, we shall view with peculiar delight 
the virtues of these two vegetables, which inherit the two essential charac- 



237 

ters of the most valuable division of the materia medica, I mean bitterness 
and astringency ; to the happy union of which the Corni have a claim as 
respectable as that which has procured for the Peruvian bark a celebrity 
as extensive as the bounds of rational medicine. Indeed, so striking is 
the similitude, so exact the result from comparative trials, that in this at- 
tempt to recommend the Cornus florida and sericea, to the attention of 
practising physicians, I cannot even review the forms of disease, in the 
particular states of which the Corni are indicated, without encroaching 
upon the reputation of the cinchona ; for in truth it may be said, that in 
whatever form of disease the cinchona has been decidedly serviceable, the 
Corni will be found equally so. And if we make aUowances for the 
chances and inducements to adulteration in the former, for our relationship 
to the latter, for its wide extent through the very soil in which are engen- 
dered the seeds of those maladies which their virtues are fitted to remove, 
we must acknowledge their superiority. Experiments of a diversified 
nature warrant this conclusion. They are like the cinchona, bitter and 
astringent in the mouth, tonic and febrifuge in the stomach ; and their 
chemical analysis aflfords results perfectly analogous." 

JVote 10. — Line 274. 

" — woo^d thy 2)otent spell 
Magnolia Grandiflora . ' * 
This magnificent tree throws out its large white fragrant blossoms in 
July. Its medicinal virtues were familiar to our natives, while they were 
accustomed proudly to point it out as the glory of the forest. " The 
bark of its root," says the late Professor Barton, "is used in Florida, in 
combination with the Snake-Root, as a substitute for the Peruvian bark, 
in the treatment of intermittent fevers." 

JsTote 1 1 —Line 282. 

" — the pure blood 
Of Liquidamhar." 
The Liquidambar Styraciflua is found near the banks of rivulets, tall, 
and elegantly formed, with leaves of a beautiful lustre. From wounds 
made in the trunk of this tree, a fragrant gum exudes, which operates as 
a-powerful tonic. The Southern natives were in the habit of drying its 
leaves to mingle with their tobacco for smoking. 



238 

Xote 12.— Line 283. 

" — the jwres 
Of the balsamic Pojralus." 
" Under the head of general stimulants may be classed the resin of the 
Populus balsamifera, called Balsam, or Tacamahaca-tree. This is a na- 
tive of North-America and Siberia. The resin is procured from the leaf- 
buds. This balsam is so very penetrating, that it communicates its pecu- 
liar smell and taste to the flesh of the birds which feed upon its buds."— 
Collection towards a Materia Medica of the United States. By Dr. Ben- 
jamin Smith Barton. 

JS^ote. 13.~Line 288. 

" — tvhich the bold Ayrshire bard 
Wished in his patriot vengeance to entail 
On Caledonians foes.'* 

" Oh ! thou grim mischief-making chiel 
Who gar'st the notes of Discord squeel, 
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel 

In gore a shoe-thick ; 
Gie a' the foes of Scotland's wealj 
A towmond's tooth-ache." 

Burns' Works-. 

JSTote 14.— Line 291. 

" — the rough genius of that lofty tree 

Whose yellow armour bears in countless studs 

The horrid thorn." 

The botanical genus Xanthoxylum, received its name on account of 

the yellow colour of its wood. The species Clava Herculis, which was 

used by our Indians in the cure of the Tooth-Ache, is sometimes called 

the great prickly Yellow wood. The trunk often grows to the height of 

SO or 40 feet, armed with very powerful prickles, which are thick at the 

base, and angular and sharp at the point. The leaves are pinnate, and a 

foot in length, the foot stalks armed with strait thorns of a third of an 

inch. This is frequently denominated the Tooth- Ache Tree, and its bark 

and seed vessels have the property of a powerful stimulant, when takea 



239 



internally, and have been found useful in cases of Rheumatism. Tiie 
medicinal virtues of another species of this plant, the " franaxifolium,' 
were also known to the natives. Lawson remarks, that they extracted 
from its berries the salivating power of mercury, and made use of decoc- 
tions of the plant, as strong perspiratives. 

J\'ote 15. — Line 295. 

" A verdant barrier of fresh-gather d leaves 

CidVdfrom an acrid plant." 
The Indians of Demarara use the leaves of the Dracontium pertusum 
in the treatment of obstinate dropsies. " The body of the patient is cov- 
ered with them, and a universal perspiration, or rather vesication induced, 
after which the subject often recovers." The leaves of this plant are re- 
markable for numerous elliptical perforations. 

J>rote 16.— Line 298. 

" Where Rhododendron like some drooping maid 
Timid and beauteous hides her golden locks." 
The Rhododendron Chrysanthemum, or golden flowered Khododendronj 
is a beautiful shrub, and of high reputation in the treatment of Chronic 
Rheumatism. An infusion of its leaves is both stimulant and narootic. 
It has been celebrated in Russia for the cure of the'same disease, and is 
procured in Siberia, Kamschatka, and Bherring's Island. 

JS'ote 11.— Line 301. 

" Or lur^d. her statelier sister's aid to bribe 
Relentless Chrojuc Rheumatism." 
*' The inflorescence of the Rhododendron maximum is almost umbellate ; 
the blossoms delicately coloured, having the red and white tints of an ap- 
ple blossom, while the green and yellow dots on their upper segment are 
strikingly conspicuous." Of close affinity to the Rhododendron is the 
genus Kalmia, of which many species are poisonous. The Kalmia latifo- 
lia was formerly used by those miserable natives who had determined on 
suicide. But modern enterprizo has successfully enlisted it in the service 
of medicine, and it is applied, in a pulverized form, internally, in fevers,-> 
or topically, for the relierof cutaneous affections. 



240 
J^ote iS.— Line 307. 

" How vivid is the eye 
Of bright Lobelia in her scarlet robe" 
The genus Lobelia is connected by several of its species with the mate- 
ria medica. Our natives were well acquainted with this fact, particularly 
wth the virtues of the blue Lobelia, and the Lobelia inflata, both of which 
are lactescent. A decoction of the root of the beautiful Lobelia Cardina- 
lis, is extensively used by the Cherokees as an anthelmintic. 

J\'ote l^.'—Line 317. 

** Thus ivith bold hand compelling the proud force 
Of deadly Hellebore." 
" In ancient Egypt, the insane were conducted to those temples, in 
which were collected whatever seemed calculated to please the eye, and 
rivet the attention. Tliere, as they wandered from one magnificent ob- 
ject to another, the world and its vexations were forgotten, and amid the 
deep interest of the scene, the gloomy images which haunted them were 
banished from their minds. In Greece, on the other hand, the followers 
of Hippocrates relied exclusively on the specific powers of Hellebore and 
its adjuvants ; medicines which, at this day, are rarely employed." — 
Report of a committee of the Medical Society of Connecticuty res^tecting 
an Asylum for the Insane. 

JSTote 20.— Lme 327. 

" Where the May-Apjile loads the pendayit bough 
With emerald clusters." 
The Podophyllum peltatum, generally called the May-Apple, is a 
common plant throughout the United States. Its fruit is about the size 
of a common plumb, of green colour, and esculent. The leaves are poi- 
sonous, and the root, which is a very active medicine, resembles that of 
the blaick Hellebore. 

JK'ote 21.— Line 328. 

" Jfliere th' Asclepias boivs 
Her bright, decumbent petals." 
The Asclepias decumbens, with flowers of a bright orange-colour, is a 
beautiful and frequent ornament of our fields. It has sometimes been 
called Pleurisy-Root, from its salutary influence in that disease ; and also 



241 



Butterfly -weed, from the attraction which it appears to possess for this 
species of insect. Its root is used in a pulverized form ; and the high 
opinion entertained of it, by the native tribes, seems to be confirmed by 
the testimony of some of our scientific medical practitioners. 

Kote 22.— Lane 331. 

" — where, embowering blooms 
The fair Convolvulus, gleaming with tints 
Of pur])le lustre." 
Among the extensive genus Convolvolus, the panduratus is distinguish- 
ed for its medicinal powers. It produces large white flowers, whose bases 
are deeply tinged with a fine purple. Its root is used either in powder, 
or decoction ; and from it the southern Indians gain their " Mechameok" 
or wild Rhubarb. From another species of Convolvolus an extract, 
tesembling Scammomy, is obtained. 

JVote 2^.— Line 332. 

" — or the Cassia shoots 
Its aromatic stem, and slender leaf 
With silver lind." 

The Cassia Marilandica is referred to in this passage, which was num- 
bered by our aborigines among their cathartics. Several of the other 
species of this plant hold a far morre conspicuous place in the pharmaco- 
fe\a of modern science than the marilandica. Such, for instance, are tiie 
Senna, an Asiatic and African plant ; the Emarginata, which in Jamaica, 
its native soil, is used as a substitute for the Senna ; the Occidentahs, 
which in the same island is considered a powerful ingredient in fomenta- 
tions and baths for inflamed limbs ; the Fistula, which forms the basis of 
a mild and salubrious electuary ; the Itahca, a native of North-Africa 
and the Levant ; and the Alata, found both in the East and West Indies, 
the juice of whose leaves and buds is a remedy in cutaneous affections. 
To these, it may not perhaps be improper to add the Cassia Chamrc- 
crista, which is cultivated in parts of Maryland and Virginia, to recover 
exhausted lands, or enrich those which are barren by nature. 

21 



242 
JVote 24.— Line 339. 

" That sinuous root, which blind Credulityf 
HaiTd as a shield against the serpenfsfang, 
But Truth enrolls amid her jyrecious spells 
For wan Disease." 
The Polygala Senega, the celebrated Snake-Root of our natives, though 
now discredited as an antidote to the bite of the Rattle- Snake, is exhibit- 
ed with success by some of our physicians, in the treatment of several 
diseases. Pursh mentions two varieties of this species, " one with white 
flowers in a dense spike, the other with rose coloured flowers in a loose 
clustre, and with narrower leaves." 

Note 25.— Line 342. 

" — to its rocky home 

Lur^d hy a purple ensign, like the tinge 

Of the pure Amethyst, detected oft 

The hidden Fever-root." 
The Friosteum Perfoliatum is found in rich rocky grounds through 
k great part of the United States. It is however a rare plant, and 
distinguished by the deep purple tinge of its flowers and drupes. The 
cortex of the root is a carthartic, and partakes also of the properties of 
Ipecacuanha. So extensive was the acquaintance of our natives with 
medicines of the latter description, that the late Dr. Benjamin S. Barton 
mentions, that " the Six nations make use of at least twelve or fourteen 
different emetics, all of which, except the sulphate of iron, are vegetables." 

^%te 26. — Line 342. 

" — or dcxCrous pierc'd 
The Ginseng's cavern." 
The Panax Quinquefolium is found in the mountainous woods of 
Ikorth-America, and Chinese Tartarj^ It is an umbelliferous plant, and 
its simple white flower is succeeded by a heart-shaped scarlet drupe. It 
is gently stimulant, and our Indians frequently prepare a tea from its 
leaves. Adair mentions that some of them are accustomed to use a 
strong decoction of this plant in their ceremonies upon religious occasions. 
The Asiatic Ginseng is considered superior to the American. The 



24^ 

Chinese and Tartars entertain so high an opinion of its virtues, as to 
denoraijiate it "the plant that giveth immortality." 

Xote 21.— Line 351. 

** The Iris ^lumining her damp alcove 
With bright prismatic lustre, to their loill 
Resigned her rainbow lamp." 
The Iris Versicolor and Iris Verna are used by the Southern Indians 
as cathartics. The Florentina also, a native of Italy, has an acrid root, 
which in its fresh state is a powerful cathartic, and when dry operates as 
-an expectorant. The root of the Palustris, or Palustris Lutea, is both an 
errhine and sialagogue. Wiien fresh it is a strong cathartic, but after 
being dried ranks among astringents. It has been recommended as a 
remedy in the tooth-ache ; and beside its subserviency to the materia- 
medica, furnishes a deep black dye, and is used in Scotland for making 
ink. This extensively variegated genus is well known to have received 
its name of Iris, from the ancient Greeks, on account of the concentric 
hues of the flower, exhibiting a faint resemblance to the rainbow. 

JVote 2S.— Line 353. 

" — that tall platit- 
Whose Jiow'r and budding leaf togellterspring." 
The Dirca Palustris is found, as its name indicates, in a wet soil. It 
rises to the height of five or six' feet, and flowers in April, before the 
expansion of its leaves. Its bark partakes of the properties of canthari- 
des, and some of pur aborignes use as a cathartic, a decoction of the 
cortex of its root. Its common appellation of Leather- Wood is justi- 
fied by the character of its bark, which is so tough and pliant, as to be 
wrought into ropes and baskets for domestic accommodation. 

Xote 29.— Line 3G1. 

" Thejirm Cassuie endures the wrecking storm, 

And changeful season, by tradition styVd 

The boon of Heaven." 
The Ilex Vomitoria, or Evergreen Cassine, is a native of West 
Florida. An infusion of it is the standard medicine of the Southern 
Indians. It has b«en supposed that this is the same plant which is found 



244 

in Paraguay, the sale of whose leaves is to the Jesuits such an important 
branch of revenue. It is found also in Carolina, and among some of our 
tribes was held in such high esteem, that the decoction of its toasted 
leaves called " black drink," their women were not permitted to taste. 
Lawson, in recording a tradition of this plant, says " The savages of 
Carolina have it in veneration above all the plants they are acquainted 
withal, and tell you the discovery thereof was by an infirm Indian, who 
laboured under the burden of many rugged distempers, and could not 
he cured by all their Doctors ; so, one day he fell asleep, and dreamt 
that if he took a decoction of the tree tliat grew at his head, he would 
c!crtainly be cured : upon which he awoke, and saw the Yaupon, 
qr Cassine-tree, which was not there when he fell a sleep. He followed 
the direction of his dream, and became perfectly well in a short time. 
Mow I suppose, no man has so little sense as to belicA^e this fable ; yet 
it lets us see what they intend thereby, and that it has doubtless worked 
teats enough, to gain it such an esteem among these savages, who are 
too well versed in vegetables, to be brought to a continual use of any one 
of them, upon a mere conceit or fancy, without sonr.e apparent benefit 
they found thereby ; especially when we are sensible, that they drink 
the juices of plants, to free nature of her burthens, and not out of fop- 
pery and fashion, as other nations are oftentimes found to do." 

In closing these botanical notes, which probably comprize but a small 
number of the medicinal plants known to our natives, the words of the 
late Professor Barton, whose attention to this subject marked at once his 
perseverence and benevolence, are i>articularly appropriate. "Judging 
from the discoveries which have been made in the term of three hundred 
years, it may be safely conjectured, that there are no countries of the 
globe from which there is reason to expect greater or more valuable 
accessions to the Materia-Medica, than those of America. In conduct- 
ino- our inquiries into the properties of the medicinal vegetables of our 
epuntry, much useful information may, I am persuaded, be obtained 
through the medium of our intercourse with the Indians. Some of the 
rudest tribes of our continent are acquainted with the general medical 
properties of many of their vegetables. We shall find that the Materia 
Medica of these people contains but few substances as inert as many of 
those which have a place in our books on this science. What treasures. 



245 



of medicine may not be expected from a people, who, although destitute 
of the lights of science, have discovered the properties of some of the 
most inestimable medicines with which we are acquainted ? Without 
mentioning the productions of South- America, let it be recollected, that 
rt is to the rude tribes of the United States that we are indebted for our 
knowledge of Polygala Senega, Aristolochia Serpentaria, and Spigelia 
Marilandica." 

.Yo^e SO.— Line 394. 

" — its lambent spire 
Played round the temples, and the fioary head 
Of old Shenandoah." 
Shenandoah, a venerable chief of the Oneidas, who died at the advanc- 
ed age of 113, thus expressed before his departure, the deep feeling of 
his loneliness. " I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred 
years have swept over its branches. It is dead at the top Those who 
began life with me, have run away from me. Why I am suffered thus 
to remain God only knows." Not infeiior in pathos, was the request 
of Scanando, an aged chieftain of the same tribe, who had embraced 
Christianity. " Lay me in death by the side of my minister, and my 
friend, that I may go up with him at the great resurrection." 

JVote 31. — Line 3997^ 

" Thon at whose name 
Our kindling 7oarriorsfor the battle arm." 

This speech was addressed to Gen. Washington in 1790, by Coni- 
planter, a celebrated Seneca chief. 

jYote S2.—Line 439. 

" Deep sighs he breathes 
To the Great Spirit token the suri declines. 
And ere his first ray lights the trembling Morn 
He renders praise. ' ' 

Our natives were habituated to address their prayers to the Gre^t 
Spirit. This was noticed by many of the first colonists, and Roger 
Williams, one of the early settlers of New England, and governor of 
Rhode Island, reiirarks, " I have heard a poor Indian lamenting the loss 

21* 



246 

of his child, call up at the break of day, his wife and family, to lamenta- 
tion, and with abundance of tears cry out, * Oh God ! Thou hast taken 
away my child. Thou art angry with ttie. Oh turn thine anger from me, 
and spare thou the rest of my children."* " The Indian when he wor- 
ships his Creator," says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, " does not forget 
to pray that he may be endowed with courage to fight, and conquer his 
enemies, among whom he includes savage beasts. When he has per- 
formed some heroic act, he will not forget to acknowledge it as a mark 
of divine favour, by making a sacrifice or publickly announcing that his 
success was entirely o\ving to the courage given him by the All-Powerful 
Spirit. This habitual devotion to the Great First Cause, and a strong 
feeling of gratitude for the favours that he confers, is one of the promi- 
nent traits that characterize the mind of the untutor'd Indian. An old 
Indian told me, about fifty years ago, that when he was young he still 
followed the custom of his fathers and ancestors, of climbing upon a high 
mountain to thank the Great Spirit, for his benefits bestowed, and to 
entreat a continuance of his favour ; and that they were sure that their 
prayers were heard, and acceptable to the Great Spirit, though he did not 
himself appear to them." These declarations of their faith in the inefiicacy of 
prayer, may be concluded by a specimen of their devotion, at once pathetic 
and sublime. " O Eternal ! have mercy upon me, because I am passing 
away, — O Infinite ! because I am but a speck, — O Most Mighty ! be- 
cause I am weak, — Source of Life ! because I draw nigh to the grave, 
O Omniscient ! because I am in darkness, — O All Bounteous ! be- 
cause I am poor, — O All Sufficient ! because I am nothing." 

^"ote 33. — Line 475. 

" From a tow'ring height 
They mark\l the goodly prospect." 
These Chieftains view'd the city of New York, from the balcony of 
Congress-Hall, where a dinner was given them in 1789, when i\xe^ 
came to treat on national aflair». 



247 



Koie S4.—Line 530. 

" J^ull many a strain 
Of native eloqiienccy simple and tvild 
Has risen in our darkjbrests." 

A bold, nen'ous, and figurative style characterizes the speeches, and 
even the more common communications of our aborigines. More libera 
ally than other savage nations, they seem to have been endowed with the 
gift of Nature's eloquence. Most of their effusions have literally been 
poured upon the regardless winds ; though the existence of a few have 
been preserved, principally in miscellaneous collections. The Rev. Mr. 
Heckewelder, has recorded a speech, which was delivered in Detroit, 
Dec. 9, 1801, by a Chief of the Delaware tribe, and addressed to the 
commanding officer of that post, then in the hands of the British. At 
the beginning of the revolutionary war, the Lenni Lenape ha^nng in 
vain endeavoured to remain neutral, generally joined the Americans j 
but this Chief witli his party had becotne allies of the English. It 
seems that they had repented when it was too late to retract, and were 
compelled to continue in hostility to the Americans. At their return from 
an expedition, the following report was made to the British command- 
ant in the Council-house at Detroit, before a large concourse. " Several 
missionaries were present," says Mr. Heckewelder, "among whom I 
was. The Chief was seated in front of his Indians, facing the Com- 
mandant. In his left hand he held a scalp, tied to a short stick. After 
a pause of some minutes he arose, and thus addressed the Governor. 

" Father ! (at the utterance of this word, the orator stopped, and 
turning round to the audience, with a face full of meaning, and a sar- 
castic look which I should in vain attempt to describe, went on convers- 
ing with them,) I have said Father, although, I do not know why I arti 
to call him so, having never known any other Father than the French, 
and considering the English only as brothers." It may perhaps be well t« 
mention here, that the Delawares had been steadfast friends of the French, 
in the war of 1756, but after the peace in 1763, having vainly hoped 
that their Father, the King of France, would send an army, to retake 
Canada, they submitted with reluctance to the British government. 
" But as this njulie," said the orator, *' hag been imposed upon us) I 



248 



shall make use of it, and say (fixing his eyes upon the Commandant,) 
Father ! sometime ago, you put a war-hatchet into my hand, saying, 
* Take this weapon, and try it on the heads of my enemies, the Long- 
knives, and bring me word if it is sharp and good. * Father ! at the 
time when you gave me this weapon I had neither cause nor inclination to 
go to war with a people who had done me no injury. Yet in obedience 
io you, who say, that you are my Father, and call me your child, I 
received the hatchet : well knowing that if I did not obey, you would 
withhold from me the necessaries of life, without which I could not sub- 
sist ; and where else should I procure them, but at the house of a 
parent. 

" Father ! You perhaps think me a fool, for risking my life at your 
bidding ; in a cause too, where I have no prospect of gain. It is your 
cause, and not mine. It is your concern to fight the Long-knives; you 
have raised a quarrel among yourselves, and you ought yourselves to 
fight it out. Jf the Indians be your children, you should not compel them 
to expose themselves to danger for your sakes. Father ! Many lives 
have been already lost on your account. Nations have suffered, and 
been weakened. Children have lost parents. Wives have lost husbands. 
Who can know how many more may perish, before your war will be at 
4n end ? Father ! I have said that you may perhaps think me a 
fool, for thus thoughtlessly rushing on your enemy. Do not believe 
this. Father ! Think not that I want sense to convince me that although 
you now pretend to keep up a perpetual enmity to the Long- Knives, you 
may before long conclude a peace with them. 

*' Father ! You say you love your children, the Indians. This you 
have often told them : indeed it is your interest to say so, that you may 
have them at your service. But Father ! Who of us can believe that 
it is possible for you to love a people of different colour from your own, 
better than those who have a white skin like yourselves ? Father ! At- 
tend to what* I am going to say. While you, Father, are setting me on 
your enemy, much in the same manner as a hunter sets his dog on the 
game, while I am in the act of rushing on that enemy of yours, with the 
bloody destructive weapon you gave me, I may perhaps happen to look 
back, to the place from whence you started me, and what shall I see ? 
Perhaps I may see my Father shaking hands with the Long-Knives ; 



249 

yes, with those very people he at this moment calls his foes. Tlien I 
may see him laugh at my folly, for having obeyed his orders ; and yet, 
I am now risking my life at his command. Father ! Keep what I have 
said in remembrance. 

" Now Father ! Here is what has been done with the hatchet you 
gave me (presenting the scalp). I have done with this hatchet what 
you ordered me to do. I have found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not 
do all that I might have done. No ! I did not. My heart failed within 
me. I felt compassion for your enemy. Innocence had no part in your 
quarrels. Therefore I distinguished, I spared. I took some live flesh-, 
which while I was bringing to you, I espied one of your large canoes, 
and put it there for you. In a few days you will receive this flesh, ani 
find that tlie skin is the same colour ivith your oion. 

" Father ! I hope you will not destroy what / have spared. You, 
Father, have the means of preserving what with me would perish for want. 
The warrior is poor, his cabin is empty ; but your house, Father, is 
ever full." 

"Here," says Mr. Heckewelder, "we see boldness, frankness, dig- 
nity and humanity, happily blended, and eloquently displayed. The 
component parts of this discourse are put together, much according to 
the rules of oratory of the schools, and which were^certainly unknown to 
the speaker. The peroration is short, truly pathetic, even sublime : 
and I wish I could convey to the mind of the reader a small part of 
the impression which this speech made on me, and on all who heard it 
deUvered." 

' The following effusion is of a wholly different character. It was 
uttered a few years since, by a Maha Chieftain, named Big-Elk, over 
the grave of the Chief of the Teton tribe, who died at Portage des 
Sioux, on his return from our seat of government. He was interred 
with all the honours of war, and this speech was taken literally by the 
Secretary of the American Commissioners, 

" Do not grieve. IVIisfortunes will happen to the wisest and best 
of men. Death will come, and always comes out of season. It is the 
command of the Great Spirit : all nations and people must obey. WTiat 
is past, and cannet be prevented, should not be grieved for. Be not 
discouraged or displeased tlien, that in visiting your Father you have lost 



250 

■^^^our Chief. A misfortune of this kind may never again befall you : per- 
haps it would have overtaken you at your own village. Five times have 
I visited this land, yet never returned without sorrow and pain. Woes 
do not flourish particularly in our path. They grow every where. What 
a misfortune that I could not have died this day, instead of the Chief 
who lies before us. The trifling loss my nation would have sustained by 
my death, would have been doubly paid for by the honours of my burial. 
They would have wiped off" every thing like regret. Instead of being 
covered with a cloud of sorrow, my warriors would have felt the sun- 
jshine of joy in their hearts. To me it would have been a most glorious 
occurrence. Hereafter, when I die at home, instead of this noble grave, 
and grand procession, the rolling music, and thundering cannon, with a 
banner waving over my head, I shall be wrapped in a robe, and raised on 
a slender scaffold to the whistling winds, soon to be blown to the earth, 
my flesh to be devoured by the wolves, and my bones scattered on the 
plain by wild beasts." 

On the subject of the eloquence of our aborigines, Sansom, 
in his travels in Canada, remarks, " when Father Charlevoix, a 
learned Jesuit, first aosisted at an Indian council, he could not believe 
that the Jesuit, who acted as interpreter, was not imposing upon the 
audience the effusions of his own brilliant imagination. Yet Charlevoix 
had been accustomed to the Orations of Massillon, and Bourdaloue ; 
when those eminent orators displayed all the powers of pulpit eloquence, 
at the funerals of princes, upon the fertile subject of the vanity of life ; 
but he confesses that he had never heard any thing so interesting, as the 
extempore discourses of an Indian chief. Even those who have had the 
enviable privilege of listening in the British house of Commons, to 
' The popular harangue, — the tart reply, 
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,' 
that flowed spontaneous from Burke, and Sheridan, and Fox, and Pitt, 
during the most splendid period of British oratory, have freely ac- 
knowledged that they never heard any thing more impressive than an 
Indian speech, accompanied as it usually is, with all the graces of u«- 
constrained delivery." 



251 



JVo. 35.— Line 551. 

« Oolaila." 
Tliis incident is borrowed from Schoolcraft's Journal. The heroine 
was a native of the Sioux tribe, who inhabit the banks of the Mississippi 
and Missouri. They are warlike and powerful, and feared by the neigh- 
bouring nations. This tribe admits of several subdivisions, among which 
the clan of Minowa Kantong has obtained pre-eminence. One of 
its principal bands resides near the head of Lake Pepin, and to this be- 
longed the father of Oolaita. Tlie Minowa Kantongs are by far the 
most civilized of the Sioux tribe. They are skilfull in the construction 
of canoes, and in the use of fire-arms, with which they are well provided. 
They are the only ones among their nation, who erect log-huts, and 
attend to the cultivation of vegetables. The Sioux are considered as 
the most warlike and independent tribe of Indians within the territory 
of the United States. With them, every passion is held in subservience 
to the enthusiasm of the warrior, and to be " invincible in arms," is the 
summit of ambition. Such is tlie excellence of their leaders, and the 
dauntless spirit of the people, that they have hitherto bid defiance to 
every hostile attack. From their pronunciation, habits and personal 
appearance, the opinion has been entertained that-they derive tlieir origin 
from the Tartars. Tiie following description of Lake Pepin, where a 
part of this tribe have their territory, is from the pen of Schoolcraft. 
" This beautiful sheet of water is an expansion of the Mississippi river, 
six miles below the Sioux tillage of Talangamane, and one hundred 
below the Falls of St. Anthony. It is twentj'-four miles in length, with 
a width of from two to four miles, and is indented with several bays, and 
prominent points, which serve to enhance the beauty of the prospect. 
On the east shore is a lofty range of lime-stone bluffs, which are much 
broken and crumbled, sometimes run into pyramidal peaks, and often 
present a character of the utmost sublimity. On the west is a high level 
prairie, covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass, yet nearly des- 
titute of forest trees. This lake is beautifully circumscribed by a broad 
beach of clean washed gravel, which often extends from the foot of the 
surrounding highlands, three or four hundred yards into the lake, forming 
gravelly points, upon which there is a delightful walk, and scalloping out 



252 



the margin of the lake, with the most pleasing irregularity. In walking 
along these, the eye is attracted by the various colours of mineral gems, 
which are promiscuously scattered among the water-worn debris of gra- 
nitic, and other rocks ; and the agate, carnelian, and chalcedony are met 
with at every step. The size of these gems is often as large as the egg 
of the partndge, and their transparency and beauty of color is only excel- 
led by the choicest oriental specimens." 

JVote 26.^Line 843. 

** — the peaceful roofs 
Of sad Muskingum." 
" A whole town of christian Indians, consisting of 90 men, women 
and children, were butchered in cold blood at Muskingum, in 1783, 
notwithstanding they had been our tried friends, throughout the whole 
of the revolutionary war."— 5Ifar in the West, 

JVote S7.—Line 845. 

*• — the deserted bounds 
Of the slain Creeks." 
"In the autumn of 1813, a detachment of soldiers, under Ge«. 
Coffee, laid waste the Tallushatches towns where the Creeks had assem- 
bled. Women and children were among the wounded and slain, and not 
one warrior escaped to bear tidings to the remainder of the tribe." Traits 
^Indian Character. Analectic Magazine, 

JVote 38. — Line 846. 

" — from the troubled grave 
Of Malaanthee." 
In the summer of 1788, a party of Kentucky militia set out on an 
«xpedition against the Rckewatown. They were discovered by some 
young hunters, pursuing the chase, who returned and gave information 
to their aged chieftain, Malaanthee. He refused to believe that any 
injury was intended them by the whites, on account of a treaty which had 
been executed the preceding spring. He therefore unsuspiciously advanc- 
ed to meet them, holding in one hand this treaty signed by the American 
Commissioners, and in the other the flag of the United States, which he 
had received at the same time. " I, and my people," said he, *' are 



^oo 



friends of the thirioen iires. Faithfully have we ob.sefved the ireatv 
made with their Chiefs ; and on this flag, which they gave me as a mark 
of friendship, I place my own and my people's protection." A fatal 
blow was their answer to the hoary Chief. The white flag, stained with 
blood, was torn from his lifeless hand, and displayed as a trophy on the 
Court-house at Lexington. 

This unprincipled deed is strongly contrasted with an instance of 
magnanimity, and inviolable friendship, recorded in Mr. Jefferson's Notes 
on Virginia. Col. Byrd was once sent to transact some business with 
the Cherokee nation ; and it happened that some of our disorderly people 
had just murdered one or two of theirs. It was proposed in the council 
of the Cherokees, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, in revenge for 
tlie loss of their countrA'men. Among them, was a chief named 
Silouee, who on some former occasion had contracted a friendly ac- 
quaintance with Col. Byrd. Every night he came to him in his tent, 
telling him not to be afraid, for they should not take away his life. 
After many days deliberation, they however determined, contrary to 
Silouee's expectation, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, and some 
warriors despatched as executioners. Silouee attended them, and when 
they entered tlie tent, threw himself between .ihem and iheir victim, 
exclaiming " this man is my friend ! Before you get at him, you must 
kill me." On tiiis, the warriors returned, and the Council respected 
the principle so much, as to recede from their decision. 

Kote 39.— Line 849. 

" Lo ! Behold the men 
Who knew, and published the pure word of peace. 
Yet kept it not." 

" I was astonished," says the Rev. Mr. Ileckewelder, " to hear in 
April 1787, a great Delaware Chief, after recapitulating some of the 
wrongs sustained through the whites, conclude in these words. * I 
admit that there are good white men .- but they bear no proportion 
to the bad. Tlie bad must be strongest ; for the bad rule. They 
do what they please. , They enslave tliose who are not of their 
colour, though^ ^created by the same Great Spirit. They would 
make slaves of us, if they could, but as they have not fully done 
22 



254 

it, they kill us. There is no faith in their words. They are not like 
us Indians, enemies only in war : in peace friends. They will say to 
an Indian, IVIy friend ! My brother ! They will take him by the hand, 
and at the same moment destroy him. And so you, (addressing him- 
self to the Christian Indians,) so you will also be treated by them before 
long. Remember this day have I warned you to beware of such friends 
as these. I know the Long-Knives : they are not to be trusted.* 
Eleven months fifter this speech was delivered by the prophetic Chief, 
96 of the same Christian Indians, about 60 of them women and childrea, 
were murdered in the very place where these words had been spoken, 
by the men he had alluded to, and in the manner he had described." 
Loskicl. Part 3, Chap. 10. 

Koie 40. — Line S6S. 

" The Chehaw villages." 
The destruction of the Chehaw villages, was in the spring of 1818, 
by Gen. Jackson, when for the space of three days the country was 
ravaged, the houses burned, the provisions destroyed, the men slaughter- 
fexl, and the women made captives. 



NOTES' 



TO 



€Aiit© ^©wrni^M. 



J\^ote 1 . — Line 0,o. 

" The mighty Mohawk." 
Ever since the settlement of this country by the Europeans, the 
Mohawks have been noted for their fierceness, and the terror they in- 
spiied among the surrounding tribes. Their original territory was in 
the vicinity of Hudson's river, though they have now removed to the 
countries under the British jurisdiction. At the period of Capt. Smitli's 
history, which was published in London in 16277~they are mentioned as 
" a great nation, and very populous." Gookin's " Historical Collec- 
tions of the Indians of New-England," bearing date in 1692, contains 
the following testimony to the warlike and imposing character of tliis 
tribe. " These Mohawks, or IMaquas, are given to rapine and spoil, and 
Hostility with the neighbouring Indians. In truth, they were, in time 
of war, so great a terror to our Indians, even though ours were far 
more in number than they, that the appearance of four or five IVIohawks 
in the woods would frighten them from their habitations and corn-field.*:, 
and reduce many of them to get together into forts, by which means 
they were brought to straits and poverty. For they were driven from 
their planting-fields through fear, and from their fishing and hunting 
places ; yea, they durst not go into the woods to seek roots and nuts to 
sustain life. To sum up all concerning them, you may see that they 
are a stout and cruel people, much addicted to bloodshed and bnib^aitv ; 
iind ver\' prone to vex and spoil the |>eacc;'.M'' Indians." 



J\'ote 2. — Line So. 

'* — and fierce Delaware.''' 
" The DeiiUviircs, or Leiii Leiiape Indians," says the Rev. Mr. 
llcckcwelder, " according to the traditions handed down to them by their 
ancestors, resided many hundred years ago, in a very distant country, in 
the western pari of the American continent. They afterwards emigrated, 
and settled on the four great rivers, Delaware, Hudson, Susquehannah, 
and Potomac, making the Delaware, to which they gave the name of 
Lenapewihittuck (the river or strcJUTi of the Lenape) the centre of their 
possessions. The word Hitiuck, in the language of the Delawares, means 
a " rapid stream." " Sipo, or Sepu, is their word for river." The 
Delawares, who were formerly very fierce and pov/erful, have greatly 
decreased in numbers, but still retain their ancient courage, and are 
considered an intelligent and respectable tribe. 

JYote S.—Liiw 59. 

" Thiue eye beheld 
Its dawn, meek Eliot." 

This excellent man, who is usually styled the Apostle of the Indians- 
felt his benevolence excited by their wretchedness, at a time when they 
were generally considered objects of contempt and of degradation. 
He was the minister of Roxburj^, in Massachusetts, and added, in the 
year 1646, to his parochial duties, the office of spiritual teacher of the 
natives. In this he persevered both with firmness and delight, not- 
withstanding the features of enthusiasm, which his design assumed to a 
generation, not familiar, like our own, with the energies of missionary 
exertion. " In this work," says Gookin, a cotemporary writer, " did 
this good man industriously travel for many years, without external 
encouragement from man, or the receiving of any salary or reward. 
The truth is, that Mr. Eliot engaged in this laborious work of preaching 
to the Indians, on a very pure and sincere account." In anwer to those 
who questioned him with expressions of surprize respecting his under- 
taking, he gives as reasons, his desire of making God known to those 
miserable heathen, his ardent affection for them and his wish to conform 
to the promise which New-England had made the king in return for 



257 



her Charter, " to communicate the gospel to the natives, as one princi* 
pal end of determining to plant in their country." It is remarked by 
another historian, that after more intimate acquaintance with the original 
customs and traditions of the Indians, Eliot traced such frequent resem- 
blances to the ancient Israelites, that he could not but indulge the snp- 
position of their affinity, and he adds, " the fatigue of his labour went 
on the more cheerfully, or at least the more hopefully, because of such 
probabilities." 

JVote A.— Line 82. 

" With sacred pen — " 
Mather, in his Magnalia, affirms, that Kliot completed tiie wlsolc 
translation of the Bible into the language of tlie Indians, entirely with one 
pen, which he consecrated to that holy office. After his acquisition of 
this language, which was attended with many difficulties, he composed 
a grammar of it, and translated such a number of treatises on Practical 
Piety, that a small library was soon formed for those who had never 
before seen their barbarous articulations arrested or arranged. Through 
hjs instrumentality some of the most promising native youths were 
educated at Cambridge, where they became regulai- graduates. For 
their assistance in their preparatory studies, heTranslated some scientific 
essays, and works explaining more abstruse points in Theology. But 
what he had most at heart was -an entire Indian bible. The New Tes- 
tament, which was printed in 1661, with a dedication to King Charles 
II, was the first edition of the Scriptures ever published in Anuuica. A 
-Society for aiding in the propagation of the Gospel among our aboric- 
ines, was about this period incorporated in London, and som.e letters are 
preserved from the venerable Eliot, to tlie Hon. Robert Boyle, its 
Governor, who had furnished some assistance in the expense of pub- 
lishing the Old Testament. In one of them the faitliful and meek 
Apostle, thus expresses his gratitude and his christian perseverance, 
" Your charity hatli greatly revived and refreshed us. The "-rcat work 
that I now travail about is the printing of tl»e Old Testament, that thev 
may have the whole Bible. They are importunately desirous of it. I 
desire to see it^done before I die, and I am already so deep in years, 
that I cannot expect to live long. Besides, we have but one mat>, tlu? 

22* 



258 

Indian printer, who is able to compare the sheets, and correct the press,- 
with understanding. As soon as I received the sum of near £ 40 for 
the bible work, I presently set it on foot, and am now in Leviticus. I 
have added some part of my salary, to keep up the work, and many more 
things I might mention, as reasons of my urgency in this matter." 

JVote 5. — Line 87. 

" The deep-drawn sigh 
Of thy departing soul." 

The venerable Eliot attained a great age, and his exertions and ex- 
ample were to the last consistent with ardent piety, and disinterested 
benevolence. Like Polycarp, he might have said, " eighty and six years 
have I served my Lord Jesus Christ." As his soul gently departed, his 
expiring lips uttered the request, " Lord ! revive and prosper thy gospel 
among the Indians, and grant it to live when I am dead." How would 
his pious spirit have rejoiced, could it have looked through the mists of 
time, and traced the accomplishment of this fervent desire. Much had 
been performed by him, for the spiritual instruction of the natives, the 
correction of their vices ; the establishment of family-prayer, and the 
foundation of regular societies for religious worship. The first Church 
ever gathered among the wanderers of the forest, was at Natick, in 
1651. Connected with this, was a humble attempt, at civil govern- 
uieflt ; for they were permitted to hold jurisdiction over slight offences* 
3Ir. Eliot assisted them in appointing rulers over hundreds, fifties and 
tens, according to the model in the 18th of Exodus, which he explained 
to his approving auditors. He gave them also the following form, 
which may be considered as the first imitation of the ancient Theocracy 
of Israel. 

" We are the sons of Adam, and with our forefathers have a long 
time been lost in our sins. But now the mercy of God beginneth to 
find us out. Therefore, the grace of Christ helping us, we do give 
ourselves and our children unto God to be his people. He shall rule 
all our affairs. The Lord is our Judge, the Lord is our Lawgiver, the 
Lord is our King, he will save us. The wisdom which God hath taught 
v.s in his book shall guide us. Oh ! Jehovah, teach us >visdom. Send 
'hy spirit into our hearts. Take us to be thy people, and ht us take 
thee tx> be cur God." 



259 



JSote 6.— Line 92. 

" The Mar/hews rose." 

The name of Mayhew, is still embalmed with gratitude, by the 
remnant of aboriginal population on the island of Martha's Vineyard, 
The ministry of these benefactors of wretchedness commenced about 
the year 1648, in the person of the Rev. Thomas Mayhew, son to the 
governor of that island. Both father and son had acquired the language 
of the Indians, and upon the death of the latter in the ninth year of his 
missionary labours, the venerable parent assumed the falling mantle of 
the younger prophet, and until the advanced age of 93, continued his 
spiritual instructions, and benevolent deeds to a despised race. Such 
peculiar success attended their exertions, that 1500 natives were num- 
bered as the fruits of their holy toil. Others of their descendants in- 
herited the same disinterested and pious spirit, and condescended to seek 
in the wilderness those lost sheep who had never heard the call of the 
Shepherd, or the promise of a fold. 

JYoie 7.— Line 98. 

*' Dying Mitark." 
One of the chief Sachems, or princes of Martha's Vineyard, by the 
name of Mitark, who had embraced Christianity, died in the beginning of 
the year 1683. The day before his decease, Mr. John Mayhew, who 
attended him, inquired concerning his hope, and the dying chief answer- 
ed, " I have hope in God, that when my soul departeth out of this body, 
he will send his angels to conduct it to himself, and to dwell with Jesus 
Christ." Then with great earnestness he exclaimed,—" Where that 
everlasting glory is ! As for my reasons : I have had many wrongs of 
enemies, of whom I have sought no revenge, neither retained evil in 
tliought, word, or deed. Therefore expect I the same from God. But 
I proceed no further, for He is merciful. It is now seven nights since 
I was taken sick, and not yet have I asked of God to live longer in this 
world. Here are some benefits to be enjoyed, also many troubles to be 
«ndured .- yet with respect to the hope I have in God, am I willing to 
die. Here am L in pain, there I shall be freed from all pain, and enjoy 
the rest that never endeth." Pointing to his three daughters, be said 



260 



^* and you'my daughters, if you lose your father, mourn not for him. Rath- 
er mourn for yourselves, and for your sins. Mourn not for me, though 
you are unwilling to spare me, and I might be helpful to you by living 
longer in this world, yet to die, is far better for me."--Magnalia ChrisH 
Aniericani^ Vol. ii. 

JVote 8. — Line 108. 

" — the fount of penitence 
O'er rugged features pour' d a tearful tide." 

It has been urged among the objections against sending the gospel 
to our aborigines, that their prejudices and hardness of heart must 
interpose insuperable obstacles to its progress. Yet the penitence and 
humility Avith which they received the religious instructions of their 
earlier teachers were remakable* It was observed of the venerable 
Eliot, that his heart was affected, " to see what floods of tears fell from 
the eyes of those degenerate savages, yea, from the worst of them all, 
at the first addresses which he made to them." A cotemporary divine, 
who had witnessed their mode of worship, states, " we saw and heard them 
perform their duties with such grave and sober countenances, such 
comely reverence in their gesture, and whole carriage, and with such 
plenty of tears trickling down the cheeks of many of them, as did argue 
that they felt the holy fear of God : and it much affected our hearts." 

A^ote 9.— Line 118. 

*' His majestic form 
VeiVd in dim distance^ droojnng seems to pass 
'Neath the devouring wave." 
The Rev. Thomxas Mayhew, Jun. the first of that benevolent famii)^ 
wiio commenced ])reaching to the natives, undertook a voyage to Eng- 
land, in 1647, on business connected with his mission. But no intelli- 
gence of the vessel in which he embarked, was ever received. This 
affliction was deeply deplored by his family, by the church, and by the 
grateful Indians whose affections he had so strongly engaged, that for 
many years his name was seldom mentioned even by the younger and 
more thoughtless of them without tears. May we not apply to this 
excellent and lamented man, those beautiful lines in Milton's Lycidas ? 



261 

" Tlius sinks the day-star in the Ocean-bed ! 

But then anon repairs his drooping head, 

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 

Flames in the forehead of the eastern sky. 

Thus Lycidas sank low, but mounted high 

Through the dear might of Him who walk'd the waves." 

Kote 10.— Line 129. 

" Brainerd luoke in yoiUh." 
The labours of this distinguished missionary to the aborigines of our 
country, the hardships, the self-devotion, the depths of humility, the 
high aspirations of piety, which his short period of twenty nine years 
comprised, are familiar to every mind versed in the history of man's 
benevolence to man. His creed was founded on what the venerable 
Dr. Milner styles " the primitive tastes of Christianity, to believe, to 
suffer, and to love." Among the trophies of his victory, by which 
having past the gates of death, he "yet speaketh," may we not number 
the event, that from the perusal of his life, sprang that emulation which 
"baptized by prayer," dictated the choice, and sublimated the career of 
Henry Martyn ? The closing sentences of Sargent, his animated biog- 
rapher, will express the merits of that distinguished man, whose memory 
is embalmed in the churches. " Martyn followed the steps of Zeigen- 
balg in the old world, and of Brainerd in the new ; and while he walks 
with them in white, for he is worthy, he speaks, by his example, to us 
who are still in our warfare and pilgrimage on earth. For surely as 
long as England shall be celebrated for that pure and apostolical Church, 
of which he was so great an ornament ; as long as India shall prize 
that which is more precious to her than all her gems and gold, the name 
of the subject of this memoir, as a translator of the Scriptures and of 
the Liturgy, will not wholly be forgotten : and while some shall delight 
to gaze upon the splendid sepulchre of Xavier, and others choose rather 
to ponder over the granite stone which covers all that is mortal of 
Swartz, there will not be wanting those who will think of the humble 
and unfrequented grave of Henry Martyn, and be led to imitate those 
vorfcs of mercy which have followed hUn into the world of light and love," 



262 

JSfote il.— Line 149. 

" Heckeivelder toiVd, 
Girt with his Master s patience." 
The work entitled " An account of the history, manners and customs 
of the Indian Nations, who once inhabited Pennsylvania, and the neigh- 
l)ouring states," by the Rev. John Heckewelder of Bethlehem, suffi- 
©iently proves the compassionate interest which had prompted the exer- 
tions, and directed the pen of the Author. " In what I have written," 
he affirms, " concerning the character, customs, manners and usages of 
this people, I cannot have been deceived, since it is the result of personal 
knowledge, what I have myself seen, heard, and witnessed while residing 
among and near them, for more than thirty years." Of the Lenni 
Lcnapi, or Delaware tribe, he has collected a great number of interesting 
facts. These were the natives who first received the European settlers 
upon the island of New York, welcoming their arrival with an alacrity 
and reverence, which the gift of prescience would have changed into 
aversion and terror. Mr. Heckewelder, after describing the extent of 
territory and degree of prosperity which they then enjoyed, says, " On 
a sudden they are checked in their career, by a phenomenon they had 
till then never beheld ; immense canoes arriving at their shores, filled 
with people of a different colour, language, dress and manners, from 
themselves. In their astonishment they call out to one another, * Behold ! 
the Gods are come to visit us !' They at first considered these wonderful 
beings, as messengers of peace, sent from the abode of the Great Spirit, 
and therefore employed their time in preparing and making sacrifices to 
that Great Being, who had so highly honoured them. Lost in amaze- 
ment, fond of the enjoyment of this novel spectacle, and anxious to know 
the result, they were unmindful of those matters which hitherto had taken 
up their minds, and formed the object of their pursuits ; they thought 
of nothing else but the wonders which now struck their eyes, and were 
constantly employed in endeavouring to divine this great mystery. Such 
is the manner in which they relate that event : the strong impression oi 
which is not yet obliterate4.from their minds," 



263 



Note 12. — Line 184. 

" Whither goest thou /" 
Son of the Ocean foam /" 

" The Indians at first imagined that the white men originally sprang 
from the sea, and invaded their country, because they had none of their 
own. They sometimes called them in their songs, the " white foam 
©f the Ocean," and this name is still applied contemptuously by the 
aborigines of the North-West." — Prophet of Alkghany. 

Kote 1 S.^Line 244. 

" On that beloved city, which their step 

Dard not approach." 
" The remnant of the Jewish nation having again rebelled, Adrian 
completed the destruction of what Titus had left standing in ancient 
Jerusalem. On the ruins of the city of Da^'id, he erected another town, 
to which he gave the name of iElia Capitolinus ; he forbade the Jews 
to enter it upon pain of death, and caused the figure of a hog, in 
sculpture, to be placed upon the gate leading to- Bethlehem. St. 
Gregory Nazianzen nevertheless relates, that^-4he Jews were permitted 
to enter ^lia once a year to give vent to their sorrows; and St. Jerome 
adds that they were forced to purchase «t an exorbitant price the right 
of shedding tears over the ashes of their coyxntry."— -Chateaubriand's 
Travels, in Greece, Palestine, EgyjH and Barbary. 

Note 14.— Line 270. 

" Church nor council-house 
Might hold the mtdlitudc." 

The assembly who were to hear this interesting question decided, 
met in a beautiful vale, about eight miles to the westward of the Seneca 
Lake, on the 12th of June 1802. The tribe of Senecas, or Senekas, 
originally belonged to that powerful confederation of Mohawks, Oneidas, 
Onondagas, and Cayugas, which existed at the first arrival of the 
Europeans. They now inhabit the territory on the banks of the Gennesee 
river ; and the eastern shores of Lake Erie : and among their peculiar 



264 

customs which point to ancient Israel, is that of annually sacrificing {i 
white dog, as if in rude imitation of the paschal lamb. The celebrated 
orator, Red Jacket, belongs to them ; but his name in their language 
is far more appropriate than this vulgar appellation, being Tsckuycaathaw^ 
or *' the Man who keeps you awake." 



265 



NOTES 



TO 



©AM®® Ifll^l^M. 



Note l.-^Line 23. 

" Beneath their chapeVs dedicated dome 
Oneida s natives j^f^y their voivs to God." 
The church here alluded to, is one of the Episcopal order, established 
-m the Oneida tribe, where Mr. Eleazar Williams officiates as Catechist 
and Lay Reader. Interesting accounts of its prosperity, particularly of the 
devotion of the worshippers in their public service, the regularity of their 
responses, and the melody of their singing, are related by those who 
have visited them. This church belongs to the Uiocess of the Right 
Rev. Bishop Hobart, and the following notice of its consecration is 
copied from the Christian Journal of October 1819. 

" On Tuesday last, the Chapel erected for the Oneida Indians, at 
Oneida Castle, was consecrated by tlie Bishop, receiving the name of 
St. Peter's church. Fifty-six Indians who had previously been prepared 
for that purpose by their Instructer, Mr. E. Williams, received confir- 
mation, and at the visit of Bishop Hobart last year, ninety-four were 
confirmed. Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the exertions 
and pious zeal of Mr. Williams, in liis successful eflTorts to bring into 
the Cliristian^hurch these infidel brethren ; for when he arrived among 
them, two or three years ago, more than half of the Oneidas werg of that 

23 



268 



diaracter." Missionaries have been repeatedly employed amoilg this 
tribe, and the late Rev. Mr. Kirkland, (father of the President of 
Harvard University, Cambridge,) who long discharged the duties of that 
vocation with zeal and abihty, thus speaks of their religious belief, 
and that of the other nations with whom they where confederated. 
" The region of pure spirits, the Five Nations call Eskanane. Accord- 
ing to their tradition there is a gloomy fathomless gulph, near the 
borders of the delightful mansions of Eskanane, over which all good and 
brave spirits pass w'ith safety, under the conduct of a faithful and sldlfull 
guide appointed for the purpose, but when those of other characters 
approach the gulph, the conductor who possesses a most penetrating 
eye, instantly discovers their spiritual features, and denies them his aid, 
assigning his reasons. Thiey will however attempt to cross upon a small 
pole, which before they reach the middle trembles and shakes, till pre- 
sently down they fall, with horrid shrieks. In this dreary gulph they 
suppose resides a great dog or dragon, perpetually restless and spiteful. 
Sometimes the guilty inhabitants of these miserable regions approach 
so near the happy fields of Eskanane, as to hear the songs and dances 
6f their former companions ; but this only serves to increase their tor- 
ments, as they can discern no light, or discover any passage by which 
they can gain access to them." 

The Tuscaroras have affinity with the Oneidas, and resemble them 
in most of their traditions and customs. Missionaries have been oc- 
casionally sent to them, and the exercises of a Sabbath, as conducted in 
the church under the instruction of the Rev. Mr. Crane, is thus de- 
scribed by a literary and liberal minded English gentleman, who has 
travelled extensively in the United States. *' On my visit to the cata- 
ract of Niagara, in 1821, I passed with great pleasure a Sunday, with 
the Tuscaroras in the vicinity. V/ith their devotion during the services 
1 was particularly impressed. Some of them who approached the church 
during a heavy rain, observing it to be the time of prayer, remained 
without, unsheltered, till prayers were finished. Their minister by the 
aid of an interpreter, gave them a sermon of such impressive simplicity, 
that the whole of it remained upon my memory. But when the tunes 
of Old Hundred and Plymouth burst forth in strains of perfect melody, 
1 could scarcely restrain my feelings. Afterwards, a grey-headed chief, 



267 



leaning upon his staff, addressed our Father in Heaven. In his suppli- 
cation he asked that the stranger who had come from over the great 
waters, might be preserved on his return to his home, and be blessed 
for feeling an interest in poor Indians. The deportment of these sons 
of the forest, and the influence of the whole scene, was so forcibly 
affecting, that I found it impossible to refrain from tears." 

^\^/e 2.— Line SO. 

" lJ'i$do?ns hand 
HeioeUi out pillars, token slu? rears the house 
Whose arch is for the sides." 

" Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven 
pillars. "—Prot'(?r65 ix, 1. This inspired metaphor of the royal teacher, 
may among other sources of instruction, permit an application to our 
present subject. If in the most sublime truths of Christianity, may be 
traced an adaptation to our grosser frame, a recognition at once of our 
infirmities, and our needs ; does it not become us in our erection of a 
spiritual temple among the heathen, to imitate the '*' wisdom that is from 
above," and to suffer its foundation to rest upon tlie earthy since its 
service is for the benefit of those who are " from the earth, earthy?" 
Perhaps the failure of most of our early attempts to convert the aborig- 
ines may be traced to inattention in connecting the advantages of civili- 
zation with the blessings of Christianity. Their success in many instan- 
ces was conspicuous, but the adjunct was wanting, which could impress 
on the character of a roving people, the feature of permanence. Indi- 
viduals were made solemn, purified, and, we trust, gathered to the family 
of the redeemed ; but the multitude required from Christianity, a visible 
pledge that she was divine. Like the Jews, they " sought after a sign, 
yet not even the sign of the prophet Jonas" was given them, who after 
immersion in the deep for a time, was raised to liberty and light. The 
arts of civilized society, would have convinced their reasoning powers 
that the tree which bore good fruits was good ; and to the wretched 
numbers who have perished for want of sustenance would have been as 
" life from the dead." 

" We are lumgry and naked," say the Chippeways in their speech ta 
Governor Cass, " we are th;rsty and needy. We hope you will relieve 



268 

us. The President of the United Stat-es is like a lofty pine upon the 
mountain's top. You are also a great man. The Americans are 
a great people. • Can it be possible they will allow us to suffer ?" 
Schoolcraft, who traces his personal observations among our natives, 
with the pen of a master, remarks, that " the savage mind, habituated 
to sloth, is not easily roused into a state of moral activity, nor at 
once capable of embracing and understaniling the sublime truths and 
doctrines of the evangelical law. It is necessary that letters, arts, 
and religion, should go hand in h.and." The j^ounger President 
Edwards, whose knowledge of the customs and language of our aborigi- 
nes, particularly of the Stockbridge tribe, is well known to have been 
extensive, points out as the only method of securing their loyalty to 
government, " the prosecution of the design of thoroughly instructing 
them in the true religion, and of educating their children to useful 
knowledge," The process of turning them from hunting and fishing 
tfi husbandry, must of necessity be slow ; yet it seems that it would not 
be impossible to lead from the beauty and comforts of harvest, up to 
the Giver of Good, those souls which had been accustomed even through 
darkness and ignorance, to " see God in clouds, or hear hira in the 
wind." Yet those roving minds require to be arrested by the certainty 
of present good, before they will renounce vicious gratifications for the 
hope of futurity. A religion which recommends itself by teaching them 
to guard against the famine, the storm, and the " pestilence Avalking in 
darkness," furnishes their conviction with a strong proof, that it is able 
to provide a shelter in the day of wrath, and a refuge when all earthly 
habitations are dissolved. To vanquish their doubts of the excellency 
of doctrines, it is necessary to ameliorate their condition, and to remove 
their ignorance. To the force of the first argument, the child, and the 
Chieftain of hoary hairs, are alike accessible: the last, must appeal 
cliiefly to the rising generation whose intellect, unshackled by long 
liabit, is docile to the voice of instruction. Wisely, therefore, have our 
recent missionaries applied themselves to the education of children : 
and wisely are they permitting their system to embrace agriculture, with 
the domestic and mechanic arts. Thus, they open a new era in the 
history of that divine compassion, which during the lapse of two centu- 
ries, has often awakened tq toil for our aborigines, yet as often wept 



269 

that her toil has been in vain. Thus are they taking the most effectual 
method to arrest the fugitives in their rapid progress to the grave, by 
causing not only the dark forest to resound with the praises of Jehovah, 
but also the "wilderness and the solitary place to blossom as the rose." 

JVote S.—Line 106. 

" — Ihei/ with gratifidjoy ivere haiVd 
By the sad stra?iger's moaning on the «v7</." 

If any claim to religious instruction can be founded on strong solici- 
tude to receive it, the aborigines upon our borders have instituted that 
claim, and confirmed it by ardent gratitude for that measure of the gift 
which has been imparted. In this respect they exhibit a strong contrast 
to most of the Asiatic heathen, to whom the gospel has been sent. The 
reluctance of the Hindoos to listen to, or submit their children to a 
system which would sap the foundation of preconceived idolatry, is feel- 
ingly described by Henry Martyn. In the course of only a few pages, 
the following passages occur, and others of the same nature might easily 
be selected. " Wherever I walked, the women fled at the sight of me. 
Tlie children ran away in great terror. I left books with some of the 
people, and went away, amid the sneers and laughter of the common 
soldiers. A party of boatmen I talked with,''^d begged them to take 
a tract, but could not prevail. A Mussulman who had received one of 
the Hindostanee tracts, and found what it was, was greaily alarmed and 
returned it. I am much discouraged at the rebuffs and suspicions I 
meet with. As I was entering a boat, I happened to toucli, with my 
'stick, a brass pot of one of the Hindoos, in wiiich rice was boiling. So 
defiled are we in their sight, that the pollution past from my hand, 
through the stick and brass to the food. He rose and threw it all 
away. Walked in the evening to a poor village, where I only produced 
terror." • 

If the zeal which " counts all losses light," would reproach itself -as 
weak to be moved by these afflictions, or selfish to be influenced by them 
in the choice of a theatre of action ; yet minds of a more calculating class, 
who feel that life is short ; and those who love the luxury of doing good, 
would be inclined to choose that station, where probabilities are greatest of 
performing the most in a limited time. Still the missionajy in his most 
23-^ 



276 

eligible situation has enough of trial, enough of privation, to remind 
■'^m that he is a herald of that Prince, whose " kingdom is not of this 
world." The tribes upon our borders to whom religious teachers have 
been sent, so far from testifying like the oriental heathen, strong reluc« 
tance or aversion, have entrusted their children to them with tears of 
gratitude, and in many instances aided in the expenses incidental to their 
education. The Cherokees who have probably shared the most largely 
in these benefits, have made the greatest progress in civilization. The 
culture of the earth has become an object of increased attention. Many of 
their females understand the use of the distaff and loom, and the agency 
of the needle in promoting domestic comfort. An intelligent traveller in 
that region, about four years since, writes " the Cherokee women almost 
universally dress after the manner of the whites, in gowns manufactured 
by themselves, from cotton which they have raised on their own little 
plantations. Rapidly are they coming into habits of industry. In the 
Choctaw nation, 2000 spinning wheels, and several hundred looms hare 
Ijeen made and distributed." 

The Cherokee council has recently promised a set of tools to those 
young men who would become acquainted with some mechanic art ; and 
has also divided the territory of the tribe into districts, and appointed 
judges in each for the regular distribution of justice. The children, who 
have become members of the Schools, make respectable, and often rapid 
progress in the branches assigned them. The circumstance of imparting 
to them our language, instead of being forced to acquire theirs, furnishes 
our missionaries with an important facility which is denied to their east- 
ern brethren. Time and mental labour are thus rescued for other pur- 
poses ; and the pupils after obtaining the English tongue, which they 
have hitherto done with great ease, enjoy in our books the advantage of 
an unbounded store of knowledge. The delay occasioned b}' acquiring 
the Hindostanee or Sanscrit sufficiently well to converse with and preach 
to the natives, assumes the aspect of an obstacle, which severity of ap- 
plication alone can conquer. A Missionary, eminently distinguished 
by his translations in the Asiatic dialects, remarks " the idiom, and just 
collocation of the words in Hindostanee are very difficult. Every 
few miles, the language changes, so that a book in the dialect of on& 
district would be unintelligible in another." 



Among tlie facilities afTorded for the instruction of our westerh 
iieatlieii, and which seem almost to amount to a preparation for truth, 
may be numbered the circumstance, that their minds are not fettered by 
an idolatry like that of Juggernaut, at once abject, imposing, and bar- 
barous. Their belief in the Great Spirit, and the " land of souls," is 
hot so adverse to the " simplicity which is in Christ," as the mysteries 
of Vishnoo, and of Brumma. Roger Williams in his work, entitled^ 
" A Key to the Language of the Indians of New-England," which 
bears date in 1643, and is now very scarce, has the following passage. 
" He who questions whether God made the world, the Indians will 
teach him. I must acknowledge that I have in my conversations with 
them, received many confirmations of those two great truths, that God is, 
and that he is a rewarder of them who diligently seek him. If they 
receive any good in hunting, fishing, or harvest, they acknowledge God 
in it. Yea, if they meet with but an ordinary accident, such as a fall, 
&c. they say God was angry, and permitted it." 

This habitual sense of the agency of a Divine Being in all the affairs 
of life, might serve both as an example and reproof to seme inhabitants 
of a christian land ; and seems to prove that a path is already broken up, 
for the fbotseps of knowledge and piety. Tbe latter assertion is however 
applied principally to those upon our frontiersrwho suffer from poverty 
and degradation. The natives, whose territory is farther to the west, 
maintain comparative independence ; and finding tlieir own mode of life 
sufficient for their wants, are less disposed to receive a better. But 
"our brother wthin our gates," hath not rejected our benevolence, bath 
'not put from him the word of life." Do we "adjudge him unworthy 
of eternal life, that we tuni from him to other Gentiles ?" — that we 
prefer invading the jurisdiction of foreign governments, to discharging 
the debts which our own has incurred ? For the Indian hath a claim 
upon our Justice, which sophistry cannot cancel. It is vain to say that 
their land was obtained by purchase. IVhat a jmrchase ! When whole 
townships were obtained for a single intoxicating draught ; and prov- 
inces, like the vineyard of Naboth, wrested without payment, save the 
life of the owner. In many of the original purchases of land from the 
Indians, payment was rendered with the sword, silencing the lip that 
complained of injustice, and stilling the bosom that throbbed at tyraimy. 



272 

Have we ever wrested from the Hindoo his rice-field ?— -from the Cin. 
galese his aromatic groves ?— from the South-Sea Islander his liberty ? 
Have we introduced among them new and mortal diseases, destructive 
weapons before unknown, and vices more fatal to the soul, than the 
pestilence to the body ? Heaven forbid that a christian, who holdeth 
in his hand the light of life, should be unwilling to cast its beam upon 
any land lying in darkness, or even indifferent whether any nation under 
heaven should continue to "sit under the shadow of death." But 
ought he not Jirst to relume those tapers which his ancestors aided in 
extinguishing ? first to guide those wanderers whom he has contributed 
to plunge deeper in the labyrinth of woe ? Ask the man of integrity, if 
he ought not first to discharge his debts, ere he indulge in the luxury of 
benevolence ? But what shall we render to those whom we have bereft 
of territory, of liberty, and of happiness ? What can we offer, but the 
hope of Heaven ! Life to them is as a sealed book, and Death an abyss 
of horror ; but we can teach them to read from one the lesson of resig- 
nation, and to behold the darkness of the other kindle with the glories 
of the resurrection. 

It is a remarkable fact that every nation which has established per- 
manent colonies in America, has assumed as a first principle, the conver- 
sion of the na ives ; and that every one has been either forgetful of the 
promise, or unfortunate in its execution. Spain bore upon her blood- 
stained banners, the peaceful semblance of the cross. But so ill did her. 
charitable pretent>ions comport with her execrable barbarities, that the 
miserable natives, after a full explanation of the doctrines of her church, 
were accustomed to say, that they " had rather endure the sufferings of 
hell, than to enter the abodes of heaven, if they must dwell there with 
Spaniards." A Prince, whom they offered a mansion in a better world, 
after having deprived him of every comfort in this, inquired, " Is this 
heaven of which you speak, the place where you Spaniards go after 
death ?" On their replying in the affirmative, he answered in the 
strong language of nature, " Then let me go to another place." 

France, with the ostensible design of promulgating Christianity, 
commenced her settlements in the New- World. Yet Champlain, who 
came thither under her auspices, in the year 1603, seemed to think that 
this design might best be promoted by a war among the savages ! Ae^ 



273 

corilingly he provoked sanguinary conflicts, between the aborigines and 
Hurons, and the powerful confederacy of Iroquois. Fields were watered 
with blood, yet the " peaceable fruits of righteousness sprang not." 
The next year, Henry IV of France, gave the Sieur de Monts, grants 
of land in Acadia, now Nova Scotia, and he bound himself to propagate 
the doctrines of the cross among the aborigines. Charlevoix asserts 
that his monarch would not again have received Canada, when it wasr 
restored to him by Charles First of England, (whb after taking it found' 
its expenses too greatly overbalancing its profits,) had it not been for the 
design of converting the natives. But how did the conduct of France 
comport with her professions ? A few Romish priests and Jesuits, 
disseminated the peculiar tenets of their belief, but did they ameliorate 
the condition of the savage, by mingling his simple adoration of the 
Great Spirit, vnth the worship of gods innumerable ? or illuminate his 
mental darkness by teaching him to b6w down to " images made like 
unto corruptible things ?" Yet France has not been tinged like Spais 
with the deepest dies of cruelty. Candour requires the acknowledgment 
that some of her holy men have evinced a strong interest in the religious 
instruction of the natives, mingled with that national urbanity which has 
powerfully gained the affections of many of the sons of the forest. " On 
the walls of the Chapel of the Ursulines at Quebec," says Sansom, " is 
still delineated an elegant picture, representing the Genius of France, 
just landed upon the shores of America, from an European vessel which 
is seen moored to the rocks. She is pointing to the standard of the 
cross, at the mast-head, and with the other hand offering to a female 
savage the benefits of religious instruction, which she kneels to receive." 
The Charter given by England .to her first colonists, also recognized 
as an essential object, the religious instruction of the aborigines. But 
how did their conduct in many instances fulfil this sacred injunction ? 
The natives of the forest were seen fading before their footsteps, like 
the morning mist over the mountain, as if their presence, so far from 
imparting spiritual life, destroyed even the principle of animal existence. 
The example of many of the traders, who by frequent intercourse with 
them gave the strongest representation of what they supposed Christian- 
ity was, almost^ universally contradicted a religion which forbids fraud,, 
and tyranny. Yet even then, such was their expectation of seeing some 



274 

practical influence flowing from it, that the first settlers, who witnessed 
the emotions of their surprize, were accustomed to hear them say, with 
a solemn countenance, " You know God ! will you tell falsehoods, 
Englishman?" When the doctrines of a pure religion, have been 
forcibly explained to them, how often has their effect been destroyed by 
examples of vice and barbarity. How miserably has a system of holi- 
ness been undermined by the sins of those who professed to establish it. 
A zealous Missionary-, once reasoning with the natives, on the impor- 
tance of moral virtues, when derived from rectified principles, was inter- 
rupted by a Chief, who rising, said with great earnestness, " Hold your 
tongue ! Go home, and teach your own people not to lie, get drunk, 
and cheat poor Indians : then come and preach to us, and we will beheve 
you." "They have always been ready to retort upon us," says Gen. 
Lincoln, in his observations on the Indians, " where are the good effects 
of your religion ? We, of the same tribe, have no contentions among 
ourselves respecting property : and no man envies the enjoyment and 
happiness of his neighbour ! But they have very different opinions 
respecting us. These impressions ought to be removed : has it ever 
been attempted?" 

Several Seneca Chiefs, who in the year 1818, were much noticed in 
England, where they excited great curiosity, express themselves in the 
following manner, in an address to some benevolent people of the Society 
of Friends at Leeds. 

" The great injuries we have received from white men, the wiclced- 
ness we saw constantly practised among them, greatly strengthened our 
minds against their ways, and their religion ; thinking it impossible that 
any good could come out of a people, where so much wickedness dwelt. 
In this bondage have we and our fathers been held for more than two 
hundred years, retiring and wasting away before the white men, our 
means of subsistence diminishing, corrupting ourselves with their sins, 
hardening ourselves in our afflictions, destruction before us, and ao 
qrm to deliver." 

While we urge that the just claims which our aborigines have on us 
for religioits instruction should no longer be slighted, can it be thought 
of inferior importance, that those christians who have intercourse with 
jthem," should striye to exemplify the moral virti^fis which their faith 



275 

enjoins '—that those who preach the law, should neithw make void the 
law, nor through the errors of their brethren " find the gospel made of 
none effect.'* 

Note A.— Line 123. 

" Thus Renatus spake." 

This passage is a close paraphrase of the speech of Charles Renatus 
Hicks, to the messenger who first proposed to him on the part of our 
government, to extend the benefits of instruction to the children of his 
tribe. This interesting individual received the name of Renatus at his 
baptism, by the Rev. Mr. Gambould, the Moravian missionary ; and 
has continued by his sincerity, zeal, and christian example, to fulfil the 
high hopes which the dawn of his piety excited in the breast of his spiritual 
father. His influence in his nation, which is considerable, is faithfully 
devoted to the aid of the missionaries and the promotion of their sacred 
cause. Tlie following extract from a letter of this excellent chief to a 
friend in New-England, dated 1818, furnishes a pleasing specimen of his 
sentiments, and his style. " Go on, and inflame the light to greater 
brightness in the souls of your believers in the religio:i^of Jesus Christ, 
that they may suffer the red man to come with th^m^to the fountain-head, 
which burst forth in healing streams upon Mount Calvary, giving all 
the human family to be as one in Christ. This shall warm the cold- 
hearted white man to encourage the red man to come and taste the heav- 
enly manna. Then shall the red man acknowledge that his elder brother 
was kind to him in distress, and gave him clothes when naked, and drink 
when thirsty. Then shall both enjoy His love, who is the first and the 
last, and liveth forevermore ; and never more quarrel about our covering 
the Mother-Earth, though the Red Man once lorded over her deserted 
waste." 

JVo. 5. — Line 145. 

" Methinlcs the bounds 
Of distance Jleet ! and bright, prevailing rays 
Reveal the scene." 
Braincrd, in tlie Cherokee nation, was the first institution among OUF 
aborigines, upon a plan combining Christianity -with civilization. There, 



276 

tkc experiment was first made, whether Indians would resign their childrea 
to foreign teachers, and whether tho:-e children were capable of the appli- 
cation, the proficiency, the subordination of those, whose infancy had 
passed amid higher privileges. Success has crowned an attempt which 
commenced amid the fears of many, and the humble hopes of a few* 
The children of the forest have cheerfully adopted a system of methodical 
study and labour, more strict than we find established among ourselves. 
Their progress has been almost universally rapid, and their minds are 
considered by their teachets of an excellent order. That learning which 
the child of indulgence views with aversion, and for the partial acqui- 
sition of which he fancies himself entitled to reward, they consider as 
recreations. Food and raiment, which he receives without thanks, they 
esteem as favours, exciting gratitude. Among them also, are some 
happy students of the " wisdom that cometh from above ;" and the 
Important influence acquired by the Missionaries over the minds of the 
parents, by attention to the welfare of their children, is a channel 
through which much good may enter. 

The experiment first tried among the Cherokees has been repeated 
among the Choctaws and Great Osages, so that already, at a variety of 
stations, several hundred native children are hstening to the voice of 
Instruction. 

Whether the Indians ever can be civilized, still remains a question 
with many cautious minds. If they ever can, now is the time : when 
famine and misery have forced them to seek a refuge, and when that 
refuge is provided for them in the arms of humanity. But reason 
assures us, that the process must be slow. National character is not 
modified, much less renovated, in a moment. By the time that the 
whole of the present generation has past away, the point may be decided. 
Yet if in civilized countries, where education exerts its sway with fewer 
obstacles, th^ children even of virtuous parents sometimes prove faithless 
both to the example of the one, and the impression of the other ; much 
ought to be expected of a roving and untutored race, to counteract the 
purposes of instruction, and repress the enthusiasm of hope. 



277 



Note 6. — Line 157. 

" Almost thi/ fervent praijr 
Bursts on my ear, blest ICingsbury." 
At a time when missions to the East almost monopolized the exer- 
tions of christians, the Rev. Cyrus Kingfsbury was revohnng amid the 
sohtude of the student's cell, the design of devoting himself to our 
western aborigines. With firmness worthy of his cause, he penetrated 
the lonely forest, and established the first permanent institution in which 
the children of our natives had ever been taught to blend the arts of 
civilized life with the hopes of an immortal existence. When the first 
obstacles to an institution have been surmounted, he has left it to form 
others in the wilderness ; choosing not to " rest in his labours, but to 
bear the burden, and heat of the day." Only a few years have elapsed, 
since his solitary tent was pitched among the wilds of Chickamaugah ; 
now, many christians have entered the same path, to water the seed 
in the desert, and to forget their toil amid the joy of harvest. This 
self-devoted band may be considered as adopting the plan which filled 
the discriminating mind of Eliot, the first Indian apostle, who in his 
early intercourse with them, declared, that in -order to succeed in their 
conversion to Christianity, it was necessary that " they should be taken 
off from their wild way of living, and brought into some kind of ^ivil 
society." 

JVoic l.—Linc 188. 

" Catharine, hail / 
Our sister in the faith." 
This particular notice of an individual, when rrany of the native 
pupils have distinguished themselves by proficiency in study and cheer- 
ful acquiescence in the rules of their new institutions, may be explained 
by the circumstance that she was the first among that number, wlio 
embraced Christianity. A short time after she became a member of tlie 
school at Braincrd, which tlien bore the original name of Chickamaugah, 
Catharine Brown, at that time about the age of 16 years, was remarked 
for her rapid progress in tlie various branches of education, and for the 
influence of pure religion upon her heart and deportment. A variety of 
21 



278 



ornaments with which she was furnished by her parents, had been worm 
with some haughtiness, as valuable aids to a comely appearance. These 
were of her own accord laid aside, and offered to assist in defraying the 
expenses of the mission. On the minds of those of her companions who 
seemed less sensible than herself of the advantages extended to them, 
she strove to impress the magnitude of their privileges. Soon after the 
establishment of the school, one of the instructers writes, " Catharine 
takes great pains to make those little Cherokees, who are inclined to be 
inconsiderate, understand the privilege they enjoy in atte; ding school 
here. Often has she been heard interceding for them with her Father 
in Heaven. Every night she reads the Scriptures, and prays with those 
little girls, who lodge in the same apartment : and every day she gives 
increasing evidence that the love of God is shed abroad in her heart." 
Since that period she has become more extensivel}'^ known throughout the 
christian community, as an interesting example of the power of that holy 
principle which at once renovates, fortifies, and exalts our nature. She 
has become a faithful Instructress in a school recently established among 
her tribe : and her brother, a promising young man, who has also em- 
braced our religion, is receiving in the excellent institution at Cornwall 
(Connecticut) an education to fit him for a missionary to his people. 
*' Oh how great would be the blessing," he exclaims in the glowing, 
vmrestrained language of nature, " could we see many young heathen 
became heralds of salvation to their dear benighted countrymen, see 
them hail the little flock of Christ at the Cherokee nation, and overthrow 
the dominion of darkness there, and make the banks of Chickamaugah 
tremble, and fly on the wings of heavenly love over tlie lofty Lookout, 
and visit the slumbering inhabitants there ; and reach the plains of 
Creek-Path, and turn that path tov>'ards heaven, that it may be travelled 
by Cherokees also ; and thus go on until Spring-Place, Taloney, 
Tsatuga, and all the people, acknowledge God as their Saviour." 

The Lookout is a majestic mountain, whose base is washed by the 
Tennessee River, and the places alluded to, in this sentence, are villages 
of the Cherokee territory, some of tliem within the vicinity of the former 
abode of the writer. 



279 



jSTote 8.— Line 198. 

"And thou too, Warrior brave! 
Undaunted Charles — " 
Among the first converts to Christianity, from our American wilds, 
by the recent exertions of benevolence, was an intrepid Cherokee war- 
rior, by the name of Charles Reece. In our last war with Great Britain 
he distinguished himself at the battle of the Horse-shoe, by swimming 
across the river in the face, and under the fire of the enemy, and bringing 
off the boats in triumph. As a testimony of valour, he received from 
government a musket, richly ornamented with silver. This bold war- 
rior was so much affected by the religious instructions of the Rev. Mr. 
Cornelius, when a traveller in that country, that he sank at his feet, as 
if utterly deprived of strength, and desiring to become as a little child, 
that he might learn in humility, the words of his Saviour. The day 
after, he came several miles to find the missionaries at Brainerd, in- 
quiring of them, with the deepest solemnity, " Can you tell me what 
God wants me to do ?" and in conformity to their instructions, resigned 
his imperfect theory, for the knowledge and practice of a consistent 
religion. - — 

J^ote 9.— Line 212. 

" His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bent 
His solitary ivay — " 
The Rev. Mr. Cornelius, now of Salem (Massachusetts,) was ap- 
pointed in 1817, to travel through the United States, in order to excite 
the benevolence of the people in favour of the mission to our aborigines, 
which had been patronized by government ; and likewise to visit several 
of the tribes upon our borders, and discover with what dispositions they 
would meet the designs of mercy. These important offices were dis- 
charged with such a happy combination of zeal and ability, that many 
hearts ascribe their first deep sympathy for this miserable race, to his 
eloquent description of the woes " of our brother, perishing within ou? 
gates." 



280 



Note 10.— Line 321. 

" Thou mild Moravian Sister." 
Mrs. Gambold, the wife of the Rev. John Gambold, aitied iji 
bearing the burdens, and performing the duties of a missicnars'-, with 
distinguished zeal and ability, for a period of sixteen years. Her 
exertions were devoted to tlie Cherokees, and her residence was at 
Spring-place in Tennessee. She was admired in early life, for her 
amiable and refined manners, and for the possession of those accomplish- 
ments which are highly valued in polished society. For fourteen 3'ears 
she was an Instructress in the Female Seminary at Bethlehem (Pennsyl- 
nia), beloved by those who were under her care, and happy in an em- 
ployment which at once gave her independence, esteem, and the con- 
sciousness of an useful life. " Yet there," slie says, " my equally 
favourite object was to throw my humble mite into the depressed scale of 
our poor aborigines. Strongly did I feel for their situation ; and whoever 
spoke or acted in their favour was my friend. My heart bled at the 
view of their accumulated wrongs." Moved by this tender and ardent 
zeal, she decided to renounce the comforts of her situation, the allure- 
ments of refined society, and to endure perils in the walderness. With 
nnabating firmness, with the most tender sentiments of piety, she dis- 
charged the duties, and sustained the privations of her station. To the 
wandering natives, she exemplified the Apostle's precept, that " God is 
love : and that he who dwelleth in loA'^e, dwelleth in God." With the most 
endearing condescension, she poured instruction into the minds of their 
ignorant children, waiting patiently for the harvest. " Our institution 
for the young," she writes in 1819, "is at present small. But how 
good is our Saviour ! Some of those dearly beloved pupils hath he 
already brought into the ark of safety." Tlie promising Cherokee 
\ outh, who received the name of Elias Boudinot, and is now pursuing 
his studies in the institution at Cornwall (Connecticut,) acquired the 
rudiments of learning and piety from this excellent woman. She 
exerted herself in forming a Sunday school for the blacks, who, she 
observes, used " formerly to profane our most holy festivals, the Lord's 
day, Christmas, and Easter; nor were our repeated remonstrances of any 
avail." A native woman, by the name of Margaret- Ann Crutchfield, 



281 



who with her husband was interested in teaching the African school, is 
affectionately styled by Mrs. Gambold, " the first fruits of the nation, 
which it had pleased our dear Lord to give us." She was a niece of 
Charles Renatus Hicks, and her piety, like his, proved to be both sincere 
and lasting. Her ardent feelings were often strongly excited by the 
oppressions, and spiritual darkness of her people. Having been taught 
to read and write by her benefactress, she thus expresses herself in a 
letter to a friend in New-England, bearing date in the winter of 1819. 
" I feel great concern for my poor nation. The white people drive 
some of them from their houses, and from settlements upon their own 
lands. One old man, who was driven out in this manner, moved to 
some distance, where he lives in a camp. Then this old man begged 
the white people, who took possession of his place, for a boat, that he 
and his family might go to the Arkansas. But they answered him 
that he might make a canoe, and get to that country, as he could. If 
such things are allowed, we knoAv not what will become of us. I think 
our good Father, the President, is ignorant of the proceedings of the 
white people here. I believe that he is our friend, and wishes to do 
right for the Indians. There are a good many of us, who wish to re- 
main in our own country. We have just begun^to see good days, by 
having the gospel preached to us. My dear brother and sister Gam»- 
bold, have been labouring in this country for thirteen years. It is very 
painful to them, after labouring so long, to see the Indians driven away. 
My uncle Charles R. Hicks has gone on to the President at Washing- 
ton, to plead our cause. I trust our Saviour will support him, and 
make all end well. If he should not succeed, I know that we are gone. 
But one thing we know, that our dear Saviour will never forsake us." 
The death of this interesting convert took place in October 1820, and 
was attended with peaceful, even triumphant hopes. Mrs. Gambold, 
in her account of the scene, adds a little circumstance expressive of the 
reverence which the natives entertain for true piety, even before they 
have been led to renounce their own debasing superstition. The even- 
ing after the funeral, a large meteor was observed, emitting vivid streams 
of light, and attended with an explosion like thunder. " This," said one 
of them, witKlheir characteristic gravity, "this is a warning to us. It 
signifieth that a good woman hath died.'* 



282 

At the institution of the recent missions among the Cherokees, the 
faithful Moravian labourers, forgetting that narrow division of sect which 
too often causes coldness and contention in the family of Christ, received 
the new occupants at Brainerd, with the most ardent affection. Mrs. 
Gambold mentions in a letter, " How great was our joy, after many 
years hoping and wishing with tearfid eyes, for more labourers in the 
field of our dear Lord, which is truly large, and r«quires many sowers, 
when our beloved brother Kingsbury entered our little abode with a 
♦heerful countenance, ready, through divine assistance, to do his utmost 
in cultivating the long neglected soil, and in preparing a harvest for that 
dear Redeemer, who shed his precious blood not only for us, but for the 
Indians also." 

In a public notice of her death, her friendship, and even maternal 
kindness to the Missionaries of another persuasion is gratefully recorded. 
*' By the variety of her useful acquirements, she commanded the respect 
of all who knew her ; and by the amiableness of her deportment, and 
the disinterestedness of her services, conciliated the affections of an 
untutored people. But she looked above human approbation, her heart 
was fixed upon her Saviour, and beyond a doubt, her services in his 
cause will not pass unrewarded." To these remarks upon this excellent 
woman, may be added an extract from the London Missionary Register, 
conferring on the rehgious denomination to which she belonged, a tribute 
of praise, honourable both to the merit that deserves, and the liberality 
that bestows it. " It is but justice to the United Brethren to say, that 
they make the best missionaries in the world .- for to a persevering, tem- 
perate zeal that never tires, they join habits of personal industry which 
enables them to subsist at a very small expense to their employers. The 
expense of their establishment at Gnadenthal, amounting to £ 600 per 
annum, is defrayed by the Missionaries themselves, with a deficiency of 
only £ 1 9. They have completely won the affections of the Hottentots, 
have prevailed on them to shake off their habits of sloth, and are rapidly 
bringing them to a state of civilization:." 



283 
Note 11.— Ldne 336. 

" Soft, gloius the turf 
0*€r the young Osage Orjy/ian,—'* 
For a particular account of this interesting child, see a vv'ork recently 
published by the Rev. E. Cornelius, of Salem (Massachusetts), entitled 
"The little Osage Captive." 

^ote \2,—Line 494. 

" They urge their lingering kindred^ * Haste with usy 
And ive will do thee good.*-—" 

Numbers x, 29. This wnll be recognized as the invitation of the 
Jewish Lawgiver to his brother, when Israel was about to remove to the 
promised land. Its spirit seems still to be infused into the minds of 
those who are engaged in the formation of benevolent societies ; and 
among the young, the sympathy arising from it, is almost irresistible. 
The age in which we live, has been called the age of charity ; and it 
is peculiarly distinguished by the charities of childhood. Innumerable 
associations for the most disinterested purposes, of bands just entering 
into life, adorn our country. Apart from the aid vdiich has thus been 
rendered to poverty, and to the heathen, the'^ffect is important upon 
the unformed minds of the actors. For when industry or self-denial 
are made the basis of their charit}', energies are awakened, and habits 
cherished, which look beyond the happiness of this hfe, and affect the 
destinies of Eternity. The great designs of the present century, in the 
accomplishment of which, both Infancy and Age unite, are thus beauti- 
fully illustrated by the poet Montgomery. 

" In the Bible Society, all names and distinctions of sects are blended, 
till they are lost, like the prismatic colours, in a ray of pure and perfect 
light. In the Missionary work, though divided, they are not discordant; 
but like the same colours displayed and harmonized in the rainbow, they 
form an arch of glor}', ascending on the one hand from earth to heaven, 
and on the other, dascending from heaven to earth, a bow of promise, a 
covenant of peace, a sign that the storm is passing away, and the * Sutt 
of Righteousness, with healing on his wings,' breaking forth over all 
nations." 



284 

J^ote IS.— Line 570. 

" — thotc whose heart 
Gathering the groans of our rejected tribes 
Compassmiate devised their good. ^'' 
His excellency James Monroej the present Chief Magistrate of the 
United States, has distinguished himself by a kind regard to the interests 
of our aborigines. He has awakened their gratitude and confidence ; 
and they are accustomed to speak of him as a Father, who is solicitous 
for their welfare, and to view him as a Philanthropist, listening to " the 
sighing of the prisioner.'J The recent missions are indebted much to 
his patronage, for the degree of success which has given strength to 
their infancy. In his tour through the western states in 1819, he visit- 
ed Brainerd, gave particular directions for the erection of a building, 
intended for the instruction of female pupils, and expressed the most 
friendly interest in the whole establishment. This benevolent regard to 
the miserable, which will long render his name respected and beloved, 
seems now to be pervading the higher ranks of society, promising to 
overcome that stern indifference which has too long been entertained 
towards the sons of the forest, by a nation which covered their glory. 
In the language of Scripture "the set time to favour them has come." 
No stronger proof of this assertion need be adduced, than the constitu- 
tion of a Society recently organized at the seat of goA'^ernment, under the 
appellation of " The American Society for promoting the civilization 
and general improvement of the Indian tribes within the United States :" 
and which comprizes a great proportion of those illustrious characters, 
whose virtues dignify their opinions, and whose opinions must influence 
multitudes in our great community. 



ERRATA. 



Page 13, 

«* 18, 

«' 25, 

« 43, 

« 56, 

«' 76, 



« 96, 

" 102, 

« 103, 

« 128, 

« 156, 

« 164, 

« 176, 

« 184, 

« 184, 

« 187, 

« 190, 

« 198, 

« 206. 



207, 
210, 
220, 
222, 
233, 
235, 
241. 



line 236, for 

« 338, " 

« 503, « 

*' 273, « 

« 591, " 

" ;037, « 

« 1280, « 

« 110, « 

« 172, « 

« 299, « 

" 321, " 

« 890, « 

« 65, «« 

« 232, « 

522, " 

16, " 

24, " 
30, « 

2, « 

26, " 

16, « 

25, " 

26, « 
33, « 

2, « 

14, " 

1, *' 

S2, « 

26, " 



« 263, 

«' 268', 

« 273, 

« 273, 

*« 276, 



14, 
16, 
4, 
15, 
27, 

1, 
13, 
12, 



« Chymistry," read Chemistry. 

" Tariessin," " Taliesia. 

« Hugonot," " Huguenot, 

" Strom," " storm. 

« swept by winds," " swept by the winds. 



" Mackbeth," 

« twjn'd," 

" Burby." 

"blest," 

'* her," 

" pavillion's," 

" fury," 

« love," 

« annals," 

" unodorous," 

" Hascala," 

" Hasealans," 

" Tehewah," " 

" deposit," 

" the best six," 

" pertcEsi," 

" tendentes," 

" magnanima," 

" Expletus," 

" Dizos," 

'< 1759," 

" Grosnold," 

"falling," 

" 1623," 

" supercede," 

" Scammomy," 

" Friosteum," 

" carnelian,'" 

" C-spitolinus," 

"ameliorate," 

" and," 

" ameliorate," 

" recreations," 



Macbeth. 

turn'd. 

Burley. 

blessed. 

it's. 

pavillions. 

fiery. 

lore, 

annal. 

inodorous. 

Tlascala. 

Tiascalans. 

Yohewah. 

deposite. 

there is one for the best six. 

pertaesa. _ 

tondentes. 

magnanim<e. 

Expletos. 

Diros. 

1559. 

Gosnold, 

fatting. 

1603. 

supersede. 

Scammony. 

Triosteum, 

cavneiion. 

Capitolina. 

meliorate. 

the 

meliorate, 

recreation. 



A very few minor errata are still unnoticed. 



XI?- 











■^j> .-i"^ • 



'% A* a;*vVX" "^^^ ^^-^^ /i 









<^ s • • > ^*^ o »» " .^ ^ ' • I 1 • A 






■*;./ * 

./\ 










i\\\\XS-\J'//>7 







LIBRARY OF CONGR|S| 

018 604 019 3 






